I’m writing because I have questions for you. You haven’t been in contact with me since that horrible day I needed you. An important person in my life took my secrets and truths and shared them with you. The presentation was horrific.
Our lives have always been unconventional, atypical. Year after year, there was always a fortissimo of chaos. I went from innocence and ignorance to dissociation.
Repression, aggression, and depression seized my life.
Stagnation is the hallmark of our finite history. I strive to be free from those chains of trauma.
I yearn to make sense of the mess in my head. I don’t expect any of this to be without emotional pain. I don’t expect this to be blessedly quick, either.
I’ve already begun this journey for truth. There is no stopping me now. I only hope you can find your integrity and altruism.
Whatever happened, happened. It won’t hold me back anymore.
Things will never be the same for you and me. It is a bittersweet thought, one I am coming to terms with. You did what you could with what you had. You did what you shouldn’t because it was what you knew.
You’ve been silent like an empty, padded room.
You’ve been distant like an outline on the horizon.
Did those words produce hazy, fragmented pieces of the past?
What does your silence mean?