disappointment

Make my bed on the great unsaid.

Been toying with the different ideas this little sentence can bring across the entire day. I love it.
I think I've stopped myself from saying a lot of things to people in my life, for reasons like the fear of the vulnerability brutal honesty can sometimes unravel. For the fear of having one's perception of me change. Most times, for fear that in the heat of the moment I may utter something completely unforgivable and irrational, because control over one's tongue, which most often is driven obstinate by sheer stupidity and boorish insensitivity, is hardly possible when a torrent of emotions is fueling the lack of it.

And once these words are out in the open, there is no taking them back.

So I have resorted to writing all of these words that go unsaid, down on various platforms and they lay dormant in microsoft word files and notes and old receipts and random scraps of paper that shaky hands and the rusted tip of an old ballpoint pen have found refuge in. After everything I ask myself the perennial question, will the people I am writing to and about ever set eyes on these furious ramblings and tearful walls of words? Or perhaps I will keep them locked up in these strange places, as memories and reminders of my quaint little habit and comfort I find in writing all my thoughts down. In neat, gramatically-sound(I hope) sentences lies my solace.

I write because of this tiny smidgeon of foolish hope I have in my heart that these people will one day listen, and understand, and know the emotional turmoil they once had me endure.