There are things we can't say. Here. There. Anywhere.
There are things we can't say. To our readers. To our writers. To ourselves.
There are things that are too hazy, too hard, too hurtful.
There are things that are too terrible, too tangled, too true.
There are things that are too messy, too mangled, too much.
There are things that are too slippery, too shallow, too sad.
But the reality is that these things exist. They float about in the waters of our minds. They come to the surface, waiting to be grabbed. Taken. Touched. And we see them, these things, their contours and corners, their shapes and shadows. We know that if we would let ourselves reach out and rescue them, if we would turn them over in our hands and heads and hearts, we would feel better. And more free. We would learn. But we also know that this is not allowed. That there are some things we can't carry to life's light.
There are some things we can't say.
But when we do not say these things, where do they go? Do they fade to the fringes? Do they disappear to the depths? Or do they build up and fester and eat us from within? Do they appear in our nightly dreams? In our existential seams? Do they appear in our fictions? In our frictions? Do they appear in our eyes? In our lies?
The things we can't say.
Where do they go?
- Are there things you can't say, on your blog and in your life?
- What do you think happens to the things we can't say?
- Who tells us what we can and cannot say? Society? Intuition? Instinct?
- Have you ever encountered someone who seems to think he/she can say anything and everything? (Because I have.)
Something I can and will say? Buy my book!