personal blog: simon

don’t whisper. don’t speak. don’t whimper. keep it all inside. let it eat me up. let the corrosion rust my mind… and I scream the voiceless screams. no sound echoes in the room. a vacuum of my words.

keep the promise. keep it tight. keep it shut… and I have done so for years, letting the distance grow with the men, with family and friends.

the greatest disease… silence and isolation.

the buzzing, the whirlwind hasn’t stopped inside my mind since… since… I can’t remember anymore, and the fury raging and I push it down, submerging it deep into my gut. I cannot submit to the anger. not allowed. not permitted… and Bryan’s message only amplifies my indecisiveness. I swipe Bryan’s message out of the view and type Jacob’s name following with, “8 pm. tonight. gotta see you.”

within a minute, Jacob’s message lights the screen, “okay.”

‘okay.’ so simple. no argument. no interrogation as to what for. no inquiries about yesterday. nothing, but, that’s how Jacob’s always let things slide at least with me. as my episode of anger or grievance or silent treatment heaved, Jacob would let me simmer until I calmed down, rethought my behaviour, and came back to him. but the problem is, I am not capable to self-reflect on my behaviour, not anymore. I got lost sometime a decade ago and have been slowly spiraling to an inevitable collision with the hell below me.

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© simon whittle — second act