“Oh baby, baby, drink the poison,
We can disappear
Away, away from here…”
-“Speak Low If You Speak Love” by My American Heart.
Biting your tongue is difficult.
You have to try so hard not to say something that’s eating away at you; festering in your mind like a disease.
Sometimes, if you’re not careful (or maybe if you’re extra careful), you can bite your tongue so hard that it bleeds.
But when is it okay to speak up?
Where is that fine line between speaking up and speaking out?
I’m struggling to find the balance between saying what I’m expected to say and saying what I want to say, because what I want to say may not be what people want to hear.
I know that when she asks me, “Am I wrong? Do you think I’m taking this too far?”
“YES!” I want to scream in her face. “Yes, you’re wrong, and you obviously know you’re wrong, otherwise you wouldn’t have asked!”
But I don’t.
I stay quiet, thinking back to the time my mother taught me the age-old, “If you’ve got nothing nice to say, don’t say anything at all.”
So I keep my mouth shut, knowing that my opinion would be ignored anyway.
I see them together and I see red, imagining the ghosts of my past sitting the same way, wondering if there was a person like me who sat by, knowing what I know, and letting it carry on. It makes me sad to imagine something like that.
It makes me sad to imagine the betrayal in the eyes of people who should never have been hurt.
It makes me sad to think about it all.
I see red for the spouses tossed aside.
I see red for the children left behind.
I see red for the lives that will never be the same.
And I see red for the lies that are exchanged.
Just to hear about it makes me feel drained. Exhaustion takes over, and the more words you hit me with, the more I want to scream.
It’s all just “words, words, words.”
But I’ll keep quiet.
Because if you haven’t got anything to say, don’t say anything at all.