The Things We Cannot Say Novels & Stories

He asked, making me frown in confusion. “What matters are you referring to?” I asked, shaking my head in question. “Last I checked, we tended to everything that needed to be taken care of for a while…” “You know, being who we are, that is somewhat impossible to do. But then again, that would depend on what things you are referring to when you say ‘all the things’.” He teased, and I pinched the bridge of my nose. “What happened this time?” I asked, and he shrugged. “You know, being who we are, we can never really say that we don’t have to deal with problems.” He said, and I raised an amused eyebrow, waiting for what he was going to tell me. “It is Naya.”

"I remember." I looked from one twin to the other. "This isn't like that." Neither of them spoke. "This time " I said, "it's not about proving I deserve to exist." I swallowed gently. "It's about speaking for people who can't." The words settled between us with weight. "My mother can't tell them what happened." "The people who died because of someone Jealousy can't."

It was a passage that resonated deeply with her, and she couldn't help but wonder who had marked it so deliberately. The words etched on the page echoed in her mind as she read them aloud: "There is something at the bottom of every new human thought, every thought of genius, or even every earnest thought that springs up in any brain, which can never be communicated to others, even if one were to write volumes about it and were explaining one's idea for thirty-five years; there's something left which cannot be induced to emerge from your brain, and remains with you forever; and with it you will die, without communicating to anyone perhaps the most important of your ideas."

I admitted quietly. Julian didn’t move. Didn’t react. But something in his expression shifted slightly. Just enough that I noticed. “That’s not the answer I asked for,” he said. “I know.” “Then give me the right one.” I shook my head. “I can’t.” “Yes, you can.” “No, I can’t.” “Why?” Because saying it out loud would change everything. Because once I said it, I couldn’t take it back. Because it would make the choice real.

The willingness to believe that the world was good. "We are not your enemy," the woman said, and her voice was not one voice but many, layered like a choir singing in a ruined church, each voice slightly out of tune with the others. "We are the unspoken. The truths you swallowed because they were too sharp to say aloud. The moments you looked away because seeing would have required you to change. The parts of yourself you buried in coffins labeled 'later' and 'someday' and 'when I'm ready.'"

I told him. "One thing I have learnt is that people always have things that they will always want to hide. You honestly can't uncover all of them and if you think you can, then you may just end up like those over engaged with things that will yeild no fruit and they totally lose touch with the important things of life that way. You need to know when to stop in matters like these and trust me, you need to stop now."

You cannot encounter disharmony that no one can speak, but you can pass by unaffected. This is our dream. This is our belief. Remain silent in speech. Let words think deep. Speak to the storm. Let there be then a war between you and disease. You win, you win. You for cannot give in. You for cannot doubt yourself. Even if you know you have a real limit, you need to shine. Shine is also of the bread that speaks little but fulfills life need.

I don't remember a single thing about my life as a human. "Tsk, can you just shoot up, cause all of the things that you know we both know too, yet we know what was the answer to that so we couldn't do anything. We couldn't just force Lea's power to grow up just like that there was always a time for all of the things"

“But i‌f som⁠ething’s wrong, it always finds its way to the surface. . S‍t‌ill… not this wee⁠kend. I don’t want to talk about Scott, a​nd I do‍n’t want t‍o talk abou​t C‌onr‍a‌d. This weekend is‍ ours—f⁠un, distr‍actio‍n, no thinking. We’ll de​al with​ the truth w​hen it deci⁠des t‌o sh⁠ow up.”

– interested in Memorabilia. – I'll try to explain. Every day I feel like I'm being left unsaid. It's like they didn't tell us something. Maybe they didn't tell us what they could have told us, but for some reason they didn't. As if we don't notice important information. Maybe this information was deliberately withheld from us. However, one thing is clear-we live in total uncertainty. Like puppets, we walk on the leash of our masters. As blind people, we are directed to places we would never want to go.