He couldn’t
bring himself to say it.
It should
have been easy to say, but his mind, heart, and mouth were not functioning in
conjunction. He let the moment slip by, allowing
them to continue seeing him as a phantom haunting the periphery. A diaphanous form without identifying marks
or traits. A vague shadow disappearing
into the ether.
His one
truth remained unspoken, coagulating in the back of his throat. One truth that is truer than any of the fluctuating
truths that comprise his contradictory inner being, but somehow it pains him to
speak it in public. Even in the privacy
of his own mind-bubble, the direct words cause him to shake his head in doubt
and disbelief.
Would they
understand? Could they understand? Wouldn’t they just see it and him as a joke
or unreal, or worse, go crazy-town ballistic, like during so many other situations
in his personal history of emotional trauma, real and imagined?
Perhaps
one day, in the future-perfect of tomorrow, he will strip away his hard-earned
veneer of self-doubt and speak his truth for them to hear and deal with. Yes, it will be difficult and there will be
naysayers, but he may find sweetness in the physical hereafter once the searing
words are released into the real world.
Only then will he no longer be a vague, diaphanous phantom.
He will be
an indie author.
JLH
P.S. Please take a walk in grey…
I will be waiting for that day to witness it!! ��
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