Left the noise for the woods in your head.
You retreated somewhere quieter — a cabin in your own imagination — and started telling stories instead of living everything out loud. Grief, love, other people's lives: you turn all of it into narrative because fiction lets you say the true thing sideways, without anyone clocking that it's actually about you. You'd rather write the ache into a character than post it as a caption for strangers to react to. Friends sometimes worry you've disappeared; really you just went inward, where the feelings finally make sense arranged into sentences. The Eye notes: the stories you keep telling about other people are the closest you've come to telling the truth about yourself.
Get your read — free on iPhoneThe story you keep telling sideways is allowed to be told straight.
What your stories about other people are actually confessing.
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