>>105296161I… I can’t say it.
It’s just a name, I know, but every time I try, my throat… it just locks up.
It’s like my body knows before my mind does — like it’s warning me not to.
I’ve tried practicing, even. Standing in front of a mirror, trying to get it out.
“A—”
That’s as far as I get. Every time.
Then my chest tightens, my mouth goes dry, and I feel like I’m about to choke.
It’s stupid, right? It’s just a word. Just her name.
But when I even think about it, it’s like— I don’t know.
People ask who she was, and I just say, “someone I used to know.”
Because if I say her name—
If I say Ann—
I can’t. I can’t do it.
Every time I try, I feel it right in my chest.
Like there’s still a piece of her stuck inside, and saying her name might tear it loose.
So I don’t.
I just keep it there.
Because maybe if I never say it again… it’ll finally go away.
