There’s something I want to share with you all. Something that’s been weighing on my shoulders for a long time now, and it’s only getting heavier. It’s something I want to scream from the rooftops, but I can’t. I want to sit down, look you in the eye, and tell you what’s really going on in my life. I want to express everything I’m feeling, because keeping it bottled up feels like a prison in itself.
But I can’t.
It’s not that I don’t want to talk about it—I truly, deeply want to. But my hands are tied, and my lips are sealed. If I told you, I’d be punished, not because I’m a criminal or because what I’d say would be a lie, but because of how it might make others feel. Sounds ridiculous, right? That a person can be prosecuted, even jailed, because the truth is seen as more dangerous than deceit?
Well, welcome to my reality.
It’s a strange, suffocating place to be—trapped in a world where what I say could hurt and offend others, and by hurting their feelings, I’m the one who faces a jail sentence. Imagine that for a second: hurting someone’s feelings being enough to put you behind bars. It doesn’t matter if what I’d share is the truth, if it’s a fact, or even if it’s just my genuine, lived experience. If someone feels hurt or upset by it, I’m the one who’ll pay the price.
How did we get here? When did our society decide that protecting the comfort of a few is worth more than allowing someone to express themselves? When did emotions get elevated above justice?
For me, this isn’t hypothetical. This isn’t some intellectual debate. This is my day-to-day existence. I wake up every morning with a tightness in my chest because I know there are things I need to say, but I can’t. I go to bed each night with words that claw at my throat, wanting to be released, but knowing if I let them out, I’ll be punished. And yet, I’m the one who is living with the emotional turmoil, the anxiety, the stress of holding it all in. The irony is, I’m the one hurting, but expressing that hurt is considered a crime.
How did it get to this point? Why is it that my anguish doesn’t matter as long as others are spared from hearing uncomfortable truths? I’m not out to attack anyone. I’m not looking to cause harm. I just want the right to speak my piece, to share my side of the story. But if I do, I’ll lose everything. Freedom, dignity—everything.
Maybe you’re reading this and wondering: What’s the big secret? What’s so terrible that saying it could land you in jail? I wish I could tell you. I wish I could be as transparent as I want to be. But I can’t. That’s the reality of this prison I’m living in. It’s an invisible one—no bars, no guards, but every bit as confining.
Sometimes, I wonder: is this really freedom? Living in fear that if I speak too openly, too honestly, I’ll be punished? Being forced to keep my thoughts in check, not because I’m wrong or dishonest, but because someone else might cry foul?
What’s worse is that, for now, all I can do is wait. I can’t even fight back without risking everything. I have to pretend that this is okay, that this is normal, that this is just how things are meant to be. I have to smile, nod, and play along, while the real me—my real thoughts and feelings—are locked away, screaming for release.
So why write this at all? Why risk even the smallest toe across the line? Because I want you to understand that silence isn’t always peaceful. Sometimes, silence is violence—violence against your own mind, your own soul, when you’re forced to keep it up for so long that it starts tearing you apart from the inside.
Maybe one day, I’ll be able to tell my story in full. Maybe one day, I’ll find a way to express everything that’s locked up inside. But until then, I’m stuck in this place. A prisoner of unspoken words.
So if you’re reading this, and you’ve ever felt this kind of silence, know you’re not alone. It’s not right. It’s not fair. And yet, here we are.
I’m still here. Silent… but not defeated.
Until then, I’ll keep walking this thin line. One misstep, one wrong word, and it’s over for me. But know that behind this silence, there’s a storm raging. And one day, when I’m able… you’ll hear me roar.
READ MORE -
- The Disappointment of Realising Someone Isn’t as Nice as You Thought.
- https://mattsmemos5.wordpress.com/2024/09/25/the-disappointment-of-realising-someone-isnt-as-nice-as-you-thought/
- The Emerging Trend of Younger Women Seeking Middle-Aged Men for Casual Hookups: A Case Study.
- https://taylorsnews6.wordpress.com/2024/09/25/the-emerging-trend-of-younger-women-seeking-middle-aged-men-for-casual-hookups-a-case-study/
- The Sting Operation: A Younger Woman's Attempt to Frame Matt Taylor as a Sexual Predator.
- https://taylorsnews6.wordpress.com/2024/09/26/the-sting-operation-a-younger-womans-attempt-to-frame-matt-taylor-as-a-sexual-predator/
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