bones rewatch → 2x05: the truth in the lye “You know what, Bones? It might be all anthropology to you but there are certain people that you just can’t sleep with. I mean, you can pretend that it’s just sex. You can lie to yourself, and you can say that it’s all good. But, um, there’s just… there’s too many strings and too much at stake, you know? Too much to lose.” “Yeah. I can see that.”
I’ve been told I am selfish. I’ve been told I’m empty and cold, noncommittal and restrained; over-ambitious, over-eager, overzealous, next-to-insane. I’ve been told I am broken, I am raw, I am wrong - I’ve been told I deserve to be alone, I don’t deserve to belong.
The truth is all of this is true, and all of it is untrue too.
I know I’m a million faces in a cloud of unease, trying to arrange into a person who feels worthy of being.
The truth is I have a messy heart; I love everything I’ve ever touched… which means for me, my heart has opened as many times as it’s bleed. My heart has been closed in as many times as it’s freed. My heart has chosen as many times as it’s cheat…
My heart has broken as many times as it’s beat.
The truth is my truth is unruly. The truth is my hands have been unclean. The truth is I’ve become this person on purpose, by accident, by maintaining that the truth is I am ugly; by maintaining that the truth is who I am, should not be.
The truth is I’ve been steel-wool-and-lye scrubbing these open wounds of mine, hoping they’d come off like all the rot I’d been told I was; like parasites robbed of air, I thought they’d burrow to the surface and be gone, so I rubbed all my skin off in vain.
The truth is I thought I was alright. The truth is I was completely blind. The truth is I’ve run from who I’ve been for so long I’ve distorted who I can become. I’ve been numb to my tenderness; in my dark I’ve been alone. I let myself believe I was a curable disease, and went about making sure no one could see this sickness. I swallowed myself to appear whole.
I’ve been told I am selfish. I’ve been told I’m desperate and indifferent; unwilling and unwhole. I’ve been told these scars are proof of my weakness, that this world finds greatness in pain that is unspeaking. I’ve been told that being quiet is the way it goes.
Silence has weakened my vocal cords. I’ve grown timid in my downturn, given up my podium to blend in. I’ve stopped writing. I’ve stopped moving. I let it all go.
This is the place I’m coming from. I’m beginning again.