How to Hide in Plain Sight

by Emma Noyes

I could only hope that enough time had passed for him to forget just how intimately we knew each other.

I’d worked hard to get to where I was now. I’d pulled myself out of the chaos of my own mind, and routine was the rope that got me there.

Memory of pain is often worse than the pain itself. It drives us. What we do or don’t do, embrace or fear, repeat or avoid at all costs—all of that is dictated by our memory of pain.

Some days, the thoughts are bad. Torturous. Some days, I can turn them into background noise, a steady hum of worry. Every day is different.