Cycle I · “The Hidden Voice” · 06

There’s a girl sitting on the edge of her bed, back against the wall, knees pulled up, staring at a chat window that hasn’t moved in twenty minutes. Earlier tonight, it felt electric — two unstoppable forces, trading fantasies faster than they could type. Now it just feels like a tab that went quiet.

She rereads the line about immovable objects and unstoppable forces and realizes she’s been both:

An immovable object when anyone asked her to slow down or define anything,
An unstoppable force when the rush hit and she was desperate not to lose it.

It hits her that what she actually wants isn’t another collision. She wants that “ebb and flow” thing the post talks about — the feeling of moving with someone instead of at them.

She doesn’t message him again tonight.

Instead, she scrolls back through old conversations and notices a pattern she’s never had words for: every time someone tried to form something slowly, over time and shared moments, she got bored and bolted. Every time someone hit her like a force, she called it fate.

She locks her phone, stares at the ceiling, and thinks, for the first time in a long time:

“Maybe the real kink isn’t who hits me the hardest.

Maybe it’s who I’m willing to actually orbit with.”

She doesn’t know it yet, but that tiny shift — away from force, toward gravity — is the first microscopic crack in the shell she’s been calling “just how I am.”

Cycle I · “The Hidden Voice” · 06

Go Deeper with This Piece

Continue Cycle I

Try Something Else