I’m digging my nails and my teeth into my palms. My skin bleeds as I hold them up and cover my eyes. Another set of hands raises out of my heart and covers my ears because it can’t bare to hear the truth. A firework of emotions errupts outside of my head but I cant see it, or hear it - only taste it and describe it blindly. The only problem is that I’ve lost my words. “It’s okay, words are so inadequate, anyway.” I’m a Helen keller of truth. I feel it running through my fingers like the sands of time through an hour glass - but I don’t feel it. I just know it’s there. It was always there.
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