All the Things I Can’t Say

A person without a censor can be a dangerous thing. Censoring keeps us safe and out of trouble. It keeps feelings from being hurt and emotions protected. The things I can’t say remain unsaid partially because of this censor.

These unsaid things remain in my thoughts and tumble through my emotions. They linger in their screaming silence. Lying beneath the surface, docile as they can be, appearing to not say a word. Sometimes rattling the bars of safety, where they are constrained. Still though, they seem safe for me and safe for you.

The things I can’t say probably shouldn’t be said. They probably should just remain in my thoughts. Their purpose may be meaningless or their questions might not actually have answers.

I have trouble leaving them there though, so at times they get said to someone else. They were meant for you, but I can’t say them to you. So I end up saying them or similar things to someone else. A someone who has not forbidden me to say things or ask questions.

I want to tell you and be truthful to you, so I am truthful to him. I wanted you to tell me how you feel, but you won’t so I tell him how I felt. I want to tell you that you should have just let me know, but I can’t say that to you, so I say that to him.

It was meant for you, but I couldn’t say it to you.

All the things I can’t say, I said, so I could get them out. So you wouldn’t have to suffer through those unspoken words. I said them, so I could still be able to communicate to you through the silence. I said them, but not to you.

What I wish though, is that I could say them to you. Wish that I didn’t have to swallow my words to you, that I could have just told you instead. Even though I’ve said things I still find myself longing to say all the things I can’t say, to you.