Unwritten Letters

Dear self, The words that I have to say are not the nicest ones. I fear what my uncapped talent might pour out. I only write truth and nothing else. So when my brother asks me to write to my older brother in prison I resist. It's not that I don't love him I just can't pretend that I have forgiven him. I cannot mask the hurt that I feel like he is some pen pal that I've just been introduced to. When the events were all too real how do you pretend they didn't singe through you? How do they expect me to become a pathological liar over night? If I were to sit down and write a pretend letter I wouldn't get a complete though out or anything right. In a real letter I would yell and release and maybe write him off forever. If I really did write to him It might reopen some wounds that are still fresh like just made french vanilla ice cream. If I really did write I wouldn't be awaiting a reply. Some things I may say would hurt like a dagger slowly slicing you to death. I won't be writing to exchange pleasantries because being real is all I've ever know how to be. My brother doesn't understand how such a lover of writing can have not a thing to say. It's not that I have writer's block it's just that I refuse to pretend everything is okay. I also refuse to inflict that kind of pain even though he deserves it I'd rather just leave these thoughts unsaid. I'll live with the heavy shoulders and the extra heavy burden because I really do love him. Love Shahana Jackson