ok so I’ve read this one maybe five times since yesterday and I keep stopping at the same spot: “Iron doesn’t argue for itself. It just sits there being heavy, tasting of nothing, waiting.”
After my dad died I did what I think everyone does. I kept the sweet stuff, like the photos where he’s laughing and the voice memo of him singing badly at my cousin’s wedding. The things I couldn’t look at went in a box: the hospital bracelet, and his last grocery list, half in his handwriting and half in mine because his hand was shaking too much to finish it. I almost threw that box out twice. It felt like dead weight. Looking at it didn’t do anything, it just hurt.
And here sisuon is saying the test I was using was the wrong test. That asking “does this change anything right now” can’t tell “inert because dead” from “inert because loaded.” The pleasant things might be the sleet, and the ones that taste like metal might be the core.
I don’t know yet what the box is loaded toward. But it’s staying.
Does anyone else read these less like essays and more like… I don’t even know. Not instructions exactly. It just keeps finding me exactly where I am, and that’s starting to feel like more than a coincidence.