“I miss you to death.”
I wanted to say this out loud and have something become of it. But I couldn’t because I knew nothing would. I could spell it out, arrange all the words on a page or on a computer screen and let them live there, and that’s where they’d stay; right where I could see them. But to say it out loud, I wouldn’t even know how to pronounce the first word like I’d never spoken English before, and what’s a vowel again? And then there’s the matter of taking them back. You say it and then it’s out in the world, free to do as it pleases, belonging to no one in particular, especially not you. I wasn’t ready for this weary truth to sprout legs and a voice of its own, making a fool of me and breaking my heart all over again. But I meant it, I felt it- the words wanted to be freed from between my teeth, but I knew better than that; what a mess it would make, what a mess. And of course, what’s worse? Losing power over your own words or expecting them to bring a very special thing about and they bring the opposite or nothing at all? I couldn’t begin to distinguish between the awfulness of them both, so I’ll keep it to myself. I’ll just keep it to myself.