The Violence of Telling the Truth
All of a sudden, I find myself thinking about him in the casual way that you think about the weather or the groceries. It irks me and makes my skin itch.
So I try to make sense of it all. I tell the truth in broad daylight. I write lists. I stop thinking only to start thinking again. I forget to take my vitamins. I drink expensive wine. I go on bad dates. I struggle to write but I cry while reading Joan Didion and, for the first time in my life, dream of a driver's license.
I guess the truth will set you free but first it will bruise your ego.