Silence

Do you ever wonder why we don't talk about it?  I doubt it.  But that's okay, because that would require actually thinking about it.  And I just can't.  By which I mean I can, but only in the odd, brooding way in which my mind considers such things.  And I don't know that I want to talk about it.

I just want you to say something.  Or I want something to happen.  But you've heard everything I have to say on the subject.  So I'll never bring it up.  And I'll avoid pointing conversations in that direction, and it's not because I'm afraid or uncomfortable, but just because it never goes anywhere and I don't think it ever will.

So don't ask.  Do everyone a favor and just don't ask.  It doesn't matter.  It never will, whether I want it to or not.  So whatever.  I know that eventually my life will move on past this subject, and it will be something I look back at and wonder about and maybe even laugh over.  But for now it's just digging deeper into my brain and refusing to show itself.

This is what happens when I'm sleep-deprived and wanting to avoid work.  My brain creates monsters that may or may not be there.  Which is okay, I guess.  They're entertaining on occasion.  But I'll stop now, because I'm awake enough to realize that this makes absolutely no sense.