Stream of thought

So as I was driving around today, running errands, I had a train of thought creep upon me suddenly.

You see, I was driving down a street that someone I once knew, lives on. Someone who once treated me, or at least I thought they did, as a relative. Of course hindsight being 20/20 and all, I now see that I was taken advantage of, and what is worse, is that I allowed it to happen.

Why is it that everyone moans about not being told the truth, yet, when confronted with the truth, it is such a bitter pill to swallow?

Why is it that when you call someone on their behaviour they get defensive? I realize no one likes to be criticized, but when you request that you be told the truth, so that the relationship can be open and honest, why then do you shove it back in the face of the person pointing out the truth? (holy run on sentence batman)

I am ever so tired of being told what someone thinks I want to hear, only to find out they are not expecting me to tell them how I really feel.

How does one get over being a used person? How does a person ever get enough confidence to tell someone to go to hell when they are being used/abused/mistreated? More over, how do you ever learn to just be, and not care if people dislike you because you don't let them walk all over you?

In this life we only have the truth. If you live falsely, you are not really living. No one ever said that the truth was free from pain. No one ever said that the easy road was the best road to take. When will we all learn to lay our cards out on the table, and play the hand we are dealt with no falsehoods, and lies?

All I know is that now because I told the truth, I am no longer involved in the lives of two very special children, and their parents, who may or may not be special. It makes me angry, and hateful, and generally want to throttle them, the adults, because they have caused me pain, and heartache.

I miss the children every.single.day. I miss their smiles, laughs, tears, hugs, and kisses. I miss hearing the I love yous. I miss holding them, as if they were my own children. It is like I am missing a part of my heart. A part that has died, and will never grow back. A part that is gone forever.