There is a time and place to be yourself, a well-edited human who sometimes types his or her mind’s contents into the abyss; there’s also room for what you almost said, for what you almost let yourself think, for what you imagine for yourself and the experiences that pulverize you so that your bones turn to jelly and you slide down the drain. A little mystery can change the flavor of the whole casserole, and you won’t see it reflected in your Facebook ads; I want to know what happened when you paced on the Brooklyn Bridge one dark winter evening. I don’t have to look you in the eye afterwards; maybe it’s better if it was both you, and not you.

random blog of interest