It whispers silently to let someone know that it has been hidden.
It always wants to be found.
It cannot help itself.
Veiled by a cloak of deceit, it knows it must find voice.
It stands tall.
Why must we live in the land of fiction when reality is not illegitimate?
Reality, while broken, is known and fixable.
Fiction doesn’t always provide happy endings, even when recycled.
Fiction is just what it is – a make believe concoction of what can be, but still is not.
Fiction on the page is entertaining, fiction in life is nothing but a…
I don’t want to use the word because it is offensive.
It is offensive to write it.
It is offensive to speak it.
It is offensive to hear it.
It is offensive to be the recipient of it.
Still, it coexists in a world where honesty has to take a backseat to its unnecessary presence.
Truth wants to be found.
Both are easily discarded.
And somewhere in between someone’s feelings are hurt.
Sometimes, they are yours.
Sometimes, they are mine.