Member-only story
The God Damn Truth
A reflection on silence
“The notebook feels heavier than one ever should, but I know it’s not the paper weighing it down, but the memory of all those words. The notebook holds a piece of my heart, a piece of my soul, the piece I gave to him long ago.”
– J.M. Darhower
The truth is: I deserve better than you. You can’t even tell me the goddamn truth. You’re too coward to face your feelings, so you let my feet dangle from atop this cliff that you placed me.
I wasn’t right for you – of that I’m quite certain. And you’re wrong for me in all the right ways. That doesn’t mean you need to stiff arm me – keeping me at a distance as if we’re starting quarantine all over again.
You disappeared from my life years ago, just to resurface moments ago. What the fuck, man?! I need not be reminded of you in the slightest, yet here you appear before me, as if you never walked away. As if your silence was never heard so deeply that my journals started speaking louder than my own thoughts. As if you merely pressed pause and not stop. As if I was waiting for you – even beckoning you to come back into my life.
The facts are this: I thought of you as a ghost, and you slipped through my mind the longer time lapsed. I was on the verge of forgetting you completely, until you re-entered my life the same ghost but now in…
