"The truth. It is a beautiful and terrible thing, and should therefore be treated with extreme caution." - Albus Percival Wulfric Brian Dumbeldore.
Truth.
Like hot tea on an equally hot day, pouring down our throats, forcing us to drink of the sweet poison.
Truth that gnaws into us at night, creating great bloody holes inside of us and forcing us to acknowledge them,
Surely, now, we will acknowledge them,
But no, like thick toothpaste that only tastes of bland, strict mint, we stop up holes of flooding truth,
Warn ourselves never to open them again,
Turn away and cover ourselves with the blankets.
A fight-or-flight reaction that ends in flight every time,
A mental block that towers over and us and threatens to fall down
At any moment.
We manage to stop ourselves from yelling, from screaming,
Not now! Not ever!
Like a fish slipping through our fingers, we somehow wriggle out of problems again
And again.
Might as well stand and face it, right?
Not now. Not ever.
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