I have this belief, wayward and ridiculous though it may be, that if I don’t write something down – it doesn’t become Truth.
Something isn’t real unless I put them in words.
It has now been nearly a-year-and-a-half since the untying of a longstanding, tight knot. I am still unable to write it down, much less admit it out loud; only once, to a dear writer-friend.
It isn’t mine to tell, I told her, it’s theirs.
But I can’t help but be affected.
Just as I was – am – with the story from the past is how I react and respond to this story in the present. History does not necessarily repeat itself because the characters and circumstances are different; but oh, the irony. It leaves traces.
It is 1.5 years later and I’m still unable to write about it – not here, forget anywhere else – because maybe, just maybe, I am still secretly and foolishly believing that if I don’t put this story down to words… none of it is real.