I thought I had gotten mad/stuck up for myself/said how I was feeling/said something. After all, I did raise my voice and I did burst into gasping tears. Maybe it was in my shutting up, in my strain to hear his barely spoken feelings, to decipher the meaning of his incoherent sentences. Maybe it was that I forgave him. She heard me comfort him while my brother’s hands were on my shoulders in hopes of silently comforting me. In a seventeen minute phone conversation I shouted, I sobbed, I accused, I quieted, I forgave, I rationalized, I comforted. 

“He immobilizes you,” she said. 

If you move along a circular path and end up where you started, have you created nothing? 


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