Author Information
Truth
From the moment the truth came out of your mouth, I didn't know how to feel.
For so long I poked and I prodded I could not stop asking, could not stop thinking that something felt off.
But now... now that I know, I can't explain how I'm feeling.
At one point in my life I was so consumed by the drowning sadness and pain I could barely focus. But you chased it away so easily.
I felt safe. I felt warm. I found an escape that was beyond addicting.
I could say anything and everything but it didn't matter.
Sometimes I'd say crazy things I knew were insane, not because I wanted to hear your advice, I wanted your reaction.
I got the same one every time I don't know why I expected something else. Maybe because each word sounded crazier and anyone sane would've ran.
I would cry I would yell I would laugh I would be sad I would be angry I would hate you I would kiss you all in a matter of minutes. Time goes slow with you.
Everything else around me moves to fast, almost slipping between my fingers but you know how to slow me down. When I overthink, you know what to say.
But what surprised me the most is that you knew what not to say. You knew when actions worked better than words because I didn't need to use my words to explain things you already knew.
Somehow you know all the ticks and clicks that make my nervous habits. You learned the ins and outs I tried to hide and memorized every note whether it was low and painful or high and happy.
If I said "once upon a time..." You'd already know the story about the girl who felt lost in her own personal fire. You could tell me every detail of why she locked herself in the dark and hid from the pain.
I didn't have to practice feeling a certain way or rehearse what I was going to say. It came as naturally as breathing.
I was comfortable living in a bliss that settled when you entered a room. Every stare and every whisper, along with stress and worry were there, but it didn't seem to matter.
I thought once I knew the truth something would change. For the first time, I'm aware of you. I know what you're thinking when I enter the room.
Our movements and actions screamed at me louder than your door slamming in my face ever could. I refused to believe it was locked for good because every time I'd turn to walk away, it would crack open again.
Now that I know the truth... I don't know how to feel. Frustration is fighting inside and I'm expected to put on a mask and pretend like it's not.
What if I walk away this time... and I can't ever open your door again.
