And I don't care about any of it. I don't care that I once wasted a year of my life (and all of the supposed-to-be-glorious events that took place during that time that were marred by their intrusions-- not ruined, mind you, but marred). I don't care anymore that all of it was a big nasty lie or that I was the only one who didn't realize it at the time. But I am unforgiving, and only because I have nothing to lose right now. I once thought I did. I thought I would lose friends, but that was all a lie too. The truth was I didn't have any.

I should've known then. I should've known when it became clear that we were not all being judged equally, that it wasn't about what one did but who one was. It didn't matter that my actions were no more lascivious than anyone else's. It was who I was that was put on trial and nothing more.

And there will always be people who, for whatever reason, will be defended, and everything they do will be justified. They will be held in high esteem, and those who counter them will be tsked away and ridiculed or pleasantly ignored. And the truth of what happened (and there is such a thing, if your eyes are open wide enough) is that no one deserves a pedestal and no one deserves derision either, least of all from your supposed friends. But I learned more than I ever wanted to about that other, darker side. And one day that illusion they cling to will shatter and their cuts will run deep.

And that is why I don't care anymore.