Welcome back to my substack! We’re celebrating day 13 of A March of Marys, a literary experience where I share a sequential chunk of American Mary, my first novel, right here online every day throughout the month of March. Today’s post is another short one.
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Things he told me, in dreams I have and don’t have. Like telling a story to someone only half-listening because they think they know how it goes.
Confessing and being confessed to. It’s all a memory in murky water. Notebook pages blooming momentarily and sinking to disintegration. You can only keep a version, and only for so long. It’ll just keep degrading.
A confession and the truth are not the same thing.
A confession isn't necessarily what happened, it’s a version of what happened.
Missed yesterday’s post? Read it here.