You’d be surprised the number of things I’ve written in my head that never made it out.
No you wouldn’t.
You’d be shocked that I’m not the person you thought I was.
No, of course you wouldn’t. You knew all along.
You’d be scared to know I’m trapped somewhere between night and day. You’d worry.
No, that’s stupid. We’re all trapped. You have your own worries.
Well, maybe then you’d want to know that all I think about are my truths. That I’ve sat here unmoving this many years because of that one single thing. That my truths have me dead to rights, a blade against the ever-loosening skin of my aging neck. Maybe you’d want to know that. Maybe that’s the thing.
But no, of course not. Holding the blade, you already knew that, didn’t you?
Note: Originally posted on brandnewmonster.com