The first confession of a Princess who became a Cindy

My first confession . I grew up in a family where you don’t go to church, you respected yourself and that’s it. Perhaps the closest thing would be to say - she was never even mentioned . My friends and girlfriends talked about confession and it seemed to me so strange , unknown, wanted time because no one can help you anyway . All the way back a couple of years. I spent my youth and childhood and lived carefree, playful, loved and spoiled . As a younger child, i had the privilege of being more naughty and disobedient than my older brother who was always to blame for everything . And then - pregnancy . Pregnancy at 21 with young man I neither loved nor hated. It was a youthful relationship. What now? Well, of course - do what everyone expects of me. Marry and give birth . And it was like that. And here after 28 years of such a life I look back but see nothing beautiful except two beautiful children. I don’t see love or respect on that trail...no laughter...no dance...nothing beautiful. I only see a STRANGER. The stranger with whom my life train passed all the stations, often jumped off the tracks but because of the children came back and continued and always hoped that the next station would bring something better...some miracle will happen...a wizard with a magic wand will appear, wave and I will suddenly find myself on a plane with a character who loves and respects me, the sun warms us and we drink Champagne while we go on vacation to the tropics smiling, relaxed...we sway slightly to the music. I am writing because I don’t know how to proceed, I confess to you, dear reader , because it’s little easier for me...a crumb ...so much crumb that I’m starting to understand why People’s go to confession . They need to, As the old People’s say “lighten the soul”. No one can tell me whether to go out at the next station with a suitcase that would not be big because it would put in it the beautiful things I Experienced and go for a better tomorrow...or to throw that suitcase out the window and accept life and the fact that there is no more things that will deserve to be stored in that lucky suitcase. Thank you dear reader for the time you spent on my life story that has a beautiful beginning, an ugly middle...and an end...who knows? Maybe near the End, a magic happens that I dream about every night before I fall asleep and which disappears with the first rays of the sun...