My heart, my story.

The most important things are the hardest things to say.
They are the things you get ashamed of, because words diminish
them – words shrink things that seemed limitless when they were
in your head to no more than living size when they’re brought out.
 But it’s more than that, isn’t it? The most important things
 lie too close to wherever your secret heart is buried, like
landmarks to a treasure your enemies would love to steal away.
And you may make revelations that cost you dearly only to have
people look at you in a funny way, not understanding what you’ve
 said at all, or why you thought it was so important that you
almost cried while you were saying it. That’s the worst I think.
When the secret stays locked within, not for want of a teller but for an ear.

- Stephen King


4 responses to “My heart, my story.

  1. Why do we want a listening ear?

    Why do we want someone who would not look at us funny when we be truthful about who we are?

    Why do we want someone to hold hands with?

    Why do we want to hear someone say, “I love you.”

    Why do we want, perhaps, it’s what we NEED.

    Yes we all get lonely sometimes, we all experience those emotions sometimes, human nature.

    I’m trying to understand.

  2. What I want is deep, maybe that’s why my wall is extremely high so that no one can climb and has been able to climb.

    A song I like.

    I leave love for other people, but there’s SOMETHING I want.

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