There is more to say. More that I need to say. Wants went out the window a long time ago, and all that's left are needs.

You might think that I've said everything. You might think that I've run out of things to say and so I've simply repeated myself over and over and over and over.

But, you would be wrong.

There's so much that's been left unsaid.

As the walls go up, the truth makes a panicked and desperate dash toward freedom, lest it be trapped forever.

There are reasons for all of this. Reasons, I mean, besides the obvious.

If the truth is hidden away and silenced, does it even count? Is it still true?

There is more to say.

(During a morning re-read, the above came off as slightly ominous. That was not the intent at all.)