313/ September 7, 2011

I learned too late that what we were had nothing to do with courage. We were far too comfortable with being cowards. We did not dare, disturb, displace. This I learned too late.

There was one dinner where we sat and said nothing, nothing significant, until we saw the cardboard bottoms of our plates. I told myself it was okay if I feared we were turning into an old, deaf couple who no longer heard the voice of love. I told myself I could just rewrite that part about us so the people would not complain.

Impress your readers with the impression of a perfect story. 

For the story to be perfect, I had to be diligent with invention, but frugal with the disappointing details. Don’t you see, mister, I wrote to protect who I thought you were, who you were no longer, and I did not want to stop inventing you because I knew that if I did, I would lose you to truth.

Perhaps all writing teeters on a tipwire of truth. I did not lie (to you).

Posted 8 months ago with 13 notes

1. wordsthatkeepyouhome reblogged this from wordswidenight
2. spelldianne liked this
3. breakoutofthemadness liked this
4. trxinaudible liked this
5. awarewolves liked this
6. chudessny liked this
7. dernullmeridian liked this
8. theseoriented reblogged this from wordswidenight and added:

   THIS IS MY LIFE RIGHT NOW.

9. batifoler reblogged this from wordswidenight
10. lalafelina liked this
11. wordsthatkeepyouhome liked this
12. necessitant liked this
13. fragment-ed liked this
14. wordswidenight posted this