Some people just want the world to know something. You hear many lyrics
“Can’t keep it to myself”, “I’m gonna tell the whole world”..”I wanna shout it out” and the likes.
Let me tell you, if you are expecting I will show as much enthusiasm as these jumpy people, you expect something nearly impossible, but only nearly. Maybe one day I will jump and shout one of these cliches.
But today, I’m not sorry, there are things I cannot say.
You do not have some?, they are not called secrets for me, I try not to keep secrets. Although I cannot boldly brag about that anymore than you can brag that you do not sin.
The things I cannot say, yes what to do with them, you wonder, many things. .
The things I cannot say are meant for me and the one who can see through my skull. I repeat “I am not sorry”, wicked I know.
The things I cannot say I think of. They are there in my head, everyday I open them and read them to myself. I play it, more like a broken record. I do things with it, I may be mad.
If one were to open my thin skull, and peep inside, it will be like the annoying markets we have in the third world countries. busy, crowded, maybe dirty too with lots of yelling. And then maybe on a “Sunday” like some markets, empty, nothing. No thoughts, just space.
The things I cannot say, I write, but not for everyone to see. You see, writing is a way to free oneself and not have the burden of telling someone. These days I’d rather trust a plain dumb sheet of paper than a human with two brains. A paper doesn’t mind you staining it with your words, as long as you keep it safe, it never tells those things.
Have you ever met someone crying? what do you say to them?, what do you do? .Never quite known what to do.
Honestly, I’d rather see you quiet than cry and sometimes I don’t enjoy people’s idea of quiet. If you came to me and I was tearing up, this is the truth. I wouldn’t mind you letting me cry, don’t stop me damn it. I didn’t just start crying for no reason, I want to get rid of the “things”, don’t hold me too, not yet. Don’t look at me, that’s creepy. If you wanna join that’s fine but unlikely. Just be there, yes that will be nice and when you see there’s just a few drops left, ah ha! now you can hold me and don’t ask for the “things”, beautiful ending, trust me.
Haaaaaa….the things I cannot say, God knows them already, yes he’ll always beat you to it. Its seems unfair that only him can know but hey what are you gonna do anyway? just a bunch of “it is wells” and “hmmms”, forgive me, I’m not feeling very kind as I write this, I just learned I’m a phlegh too, so I’m trying to outsmart the analysis of the test by not being very nice as ‘the’ phleghs always do.
God has to know, he’s perfect, he listens, he knows me. He he knows why I cannot say them and he actually doesn’t really mind I don’t say them out loud, with my knees tight together on the ground. He hears my thoughts, that’s good enough for me. I love him and he loves back but that’s not the case with flesh humans. I trust him with my life, with my weaknesses ,with my evil thoughts, Uuhahahaha!! and with my good intentions that look bad.
Finally, the things I cannot say,
Yes you, I know you’re there and I know you must be thinking I’m nuts by now.
I can say them, definitely not to the world, but I can say them to you.
But as an old man once said, it depends on you.
Do you have enough strength to carry them?
Do you have enough love to bear them?
Do you have enough restrain to keep them?
Do you have enough wisdom and patience to draw them out from me??
I Guessed not.
So question the things I cannot say no more, you don’t have the guts to hear them, and frankly writing, I don’t have the guts either.