#unreliablenarrator
If you’re reading this,
you’re probably expecting
a neat little description of the author.
Sorry to disappoint you,
you won’t get one.
What you will get
are the questions that haunt me,
the answers I avoid,
and the explanations
I’ve rehearsed a thousand times
in my head.
Should I begin with the secret
I’ve been hiding—
the one I’m desperate
and terrified to reveal?
You might be lucky
and uncover it.
Either way,
I wish you the best of luck.
Some of you may call me cruel,
unfeeling.
But in the kind of world I’ve lived in,
it’s better that way.
Maybe that’s why
I couldn’t cry
when my brother died.
I could have saved him.
But why would I?
It’s not like
he would have done the same for me.
Mar 21
Mar 21, 2026 at 3:56 PM UTC
Your mother died of old age? Organise a party. Politicians won't listen? Your acoustic guitar might. A girl walks up to a boy in the playground and calls him a **** then kicks him. Concentrate on erasing those melodramatic close-up shots from the safety of your own home. Cut paper with scissors. Try to beat that personal best of thirty-one lines of ******* in just one night. One man drives one tied up girl to a petrol station and peruses over one Mars bar or one Galaxy. Solamen miseris socios habuisse doloris. People choose to ignore a scream. It is only a whisper that fuels their curiosity.
Jun 27, 2014
Jun 27, 2014 at 9:12 PM UTC