“Stories are both an escape from the truths of the world and the only way to see them clearly.” ― Axie Oh

I write it down, I release this weight I’ve been carrying, I imply what I cannot say, I give my grief to the character. Zoe sees this, she sees the words I have written in the document and she gives me a look and asks me what it is I was trying to say. It hurts because I’m certain they already know, and they know that I’ve put it into this because I don’t want to talk about it, at least not out loud, not directly to them. But they are still my words and after everything is said and done everyone wants to be heard. I explain my words, I explain why I have given this character a lighter and a bandaged arm, why I have given them needles and safety pins. 

I do this and we stop for a moment before we continue. We continue on like nothing happened and I write my little hidden needles into the piece. But every time I hint at more Zoe follows behind me and covers it up with sand. They add words to my story, words that tell me to stop talking about it. Words that tell me that I’m not allowed to tell my story through this character. Even though that's what all of this has always been about, it has always been about telling our stories by weaving new ones together. I never stop him when he talks about their trauma, I never add lines that hint that the character doesn’t want to talk about it. I never question why Zoe’s self insert is the main character and the only perspective we ever get. I never question why they refuse to let me have this character or any other all to myself the way they took Lucid. Isn’t Lucid mine just as much as theirs, and yet I never contribute a thing to that character out of respect for Zoe’s voice and story. But when I try just once to tell my story of anger and fear Zoe silences me, tells me that character won't talk about it, that they don't want to, even though that character was made for self expression, that character is made to be loud. They tell me that this character must be silent because they want me to be silent. They are allowed to pour their heartbreak and trauma into this story as much as they want but the second someone else wants to use it to share their voice, they must be silenced? Wasn’t I the one that started this idea in the first place? Why did I let Zoe take it over? How has it become Zoe’s Book in my head? Why is it that when I hear Zoe talking about the book she doesn’t mention me, the original creator and co-author. 

But no, Zoe is my friend, Zoe just wants me to feel better, and they think that by pushing this away they are freeing me from it. But how can they not see the pain in my eyes, how can they not see how they are making it worse by denying my pain. They see the things I do to myself, they watch me do it, they call me dumb and stupid and say I should just feel better, that all of this is my fault, that I’m doing this to myself. They don’t tell me it will get better, they tell me to make it get better because apparently it's just that easy. They pretend like they understand but they don’t, they can listen to their emo music all they want, they can tell themselves that they feel pain, but if your response to someone else’s pain is telling them to just feel better than one must question if you really know that type of pain. No one who feels that type of pain would tell someone to “just be better”. But maybe they just don’t understand, maybe they're trying to be helpful, after all they’re my best friend right? They are wrong, they are so very wrong, but they are trying, aren’t they?