The Dramatic Event

A couple of weeks ago, something happened that sparked a little animosity in me. Everything I’ve wanted to say to that person wanted to burst out of me, and I wished I could call him out on all the awful things he’s done and pretended not to do.

The way I envisioned it in my head, there would be a small talk, mingled with barbed comments. Slowly, it escalates, the words rushing, out, out, out and with such clarity. All the moments that hurt to witness. All the inconceivable stories that couldn’t have happened but did. All those nights when I wondered that my young age, my naive mind, trapped me into helplessness.

I’d call you out on your crimes, your stupidity. I’d triumphantly claim that you have no hold over me, your thoughts, ideas, opinions, the mean nothing, but none of the things that mattered to me meant anything to you.

There would be tears.

There would be sobs.

And if a long, permanent cut followed, it would only mean that I was right, and I chose truth over your deluded righteousness.

In reality though…not that easy. We’re restricted; by fear, by thoughts, by connections. That risk does nothing but harms everyone else. Instead, we silently wait, silently curse, silently and coldly smile, but we do nothing and bid our invisible time.

It’s not the instantaneous release. But slowly, so, so slowly, the chains that keep the true nature will loosen, and the person you thought you knew…you probably never knew her. 

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