Is it better to speak, or to die?

Is it better to speak, or to die?

The question belonged on the pages of some dusty, forgotten philosophy book. I felt like one of those books - left on a bottom shelf, accumulating dust. Outside, the wind battered against the windows, echoing the chaos in my mind. I didn’t move. It didn’t matter; nothing matters when you’re sad.

When you’re sad, the world feels ruined. What’s meant to be an ocean blue, calm and predictable becomes a tornado of waves sent to pull you under, to wrap seaweed around your frail neck - if you exist that is.

Silence is an omen of peace, whereas, words are an enemy on a battlefield. Armoured and heavy with artillery and weapons, filled with hope for destruction, a destruction of peace.

I kept my mouth shut, my teeth clenched tight as if my tongue was a trigger and my mouth a gun. I could hear the house settling, the floorboards groaning under the pressure of the foreboding wind, but I was listening for something else - the sound of somebody approaching, coming to demand a confession I wasn’t ready to give.

Silence was my only armor, but it was failing, it could only protect you for so long. With every second the person lingered on the other side of the wood, the pressure in my mouth grew, the urge to scream - to confess - becoming a physical weight against my chest. They didn’t need to fire a shot; just standing there was enough to dismantle everything I was holding onto.

I wasn’t ready to speak, yet, it felt like every word was being forced out of my mouth.

It was the same clinical indifference I’d faced before, back when the uniform mattered more than the truth. That officer’s voice had been a weapon, too - shouting, dragging, invalidating- and now, the person on the other side of this door carried that same weight.

I remembered the way the light hit his badge, cold and unblinking, just like the metal now forcing me into visibility. They weren’t here to listen. They were here to dismantle.

The clamp ground into the only control I had left: my silence.

The pressure behind my teeth didn't just feel like words anymore; it felt like a violation.

His hand gripped around my arm, a warning as he dragged me back to the room I was confined to. His words had already confined me there; the room only made the prison visible.

A position of trust, embedded with a twisted mockery of false authority. He had control, yet he wanted more.

Is it better to speak, or to die?

To die.

Comments

So my wife’s going to a gala tonight — as her client’s “date.”

I’m 44 and my wife is 44. She works on an art advisory committee, so attending galas, events, and client meetings is part of her job. She often meets clients for coffee, lunch, or dinner, and I don’t always know the details and that’s completely normal because it’s part of her work. She’s always professional, transparent about her friendships, and I trust her judgment completely. Recently, she mentioned she’s going to a gala with a friend, S. He’s a wealthy client she met about a year ago, and they became friends professionally. She introduced me to him once, and he seems like a genuinely good person. He invited her as his “date” to this gala, and my wife said it’s fine. I did ask her though, if she’s actually going as a “date,” and she just laughed and said, “Date doesn’t always mean romantic.” She said it’s important for her she could get networking and meet new people. Then she smiled and said, “If I get into this gala next time, I won’t need to take that man with me, I’ll take you...

Update- My fiance’s “vows disaster” just hit rehearsal day & it got worse

For context- my fiance accidentally sent our officiant his draft vows, the one full of placeholders like “insert emotional stuff here” and “make her cry but not ugly cry”? Yeahhh. He promised he fixed them. But he did not. At the rehearsal, the officiant asked if he wanted to do a practice run. My man confidently steps up, opens his phone & starts reading the exact same draft. He gets halfway through “insert heartfelt memory here” before realizing, mid-sentence - what’s happening. The entire wedding party is trying not to lose it. Our officiant just sighed and said, “Well, at least you’re honest.” He is now rewriting his vows under supervision like it’s a school detention. The bridesmaids made him a folder titled “FINAL FINAL vows - DO NOT SCREW UP.docx.” If the ceremony goes anything like this rehearsal, I might livestream it for educational purposes. (And yes, I posted the original chaos on r/WeddingJokes — I feel like I owe them an update at this point)

I accidentally went on a date with someone who thought I was their other Tinder match

So, a couple months ago I matched with this girl on Tinder. We had a pretty normal convo, nothing crazy, but eventually she asks me to grab coffee. Chill, right? We meet at this cute local spot, she gives me a quick hug, and right off the bat she says: “Wow, you look even better than your hiking pics!” Problem is… I don’t hike. Like, I don’t even walk briskly. I just nod and laugh it off. We keep talking and she starts referencing stuff that makes zero sense. “Your dog is so cute—what was his name again? Bentley?” I don’t have a dog. Never have. Then she mentions how I told her I used to live in Colorado. Again, not me. I’ve never even been west of Kansas. So now I’m trying to figure out if I have early onset memory loss or if she’s mistaking me for someone else entirely. Finally, mid-latte, I ask, “Hey, just to clarify… what’s my name?” She looks confused. “Jake?” Friends… my name is not Jake. We just stared at each other for a solid five seconds before she burst out laughing. Appare...

Bimql chhetry.

Search This Blog