what's the question you keep not asking?
you know the question. it sits at the edge of conversations, almost surfacing, then sinking again. you steer around it carefully, as if saying it would make something real that you're not ready to face.
every day there's one live question, the same for everyone. answer it anonymously, see what other people said. it's all gone in seven days.
answer today's question →write the question down. the actual words. it might be directed at someone specific, or it might be something you're asking yourself. either way, put it on the page in its plainest form. then sit with it. write a line about how long you've been carrying it. write a line about what you think the answer might be, the one you suspect but haven't confirmed. and then write about what changes if that answer turns out to be true. you're not asking the question today. you're just letting it exist outside your head for a moment.
- write the question exactly as it sounds in your head, then notice whether it's really one question or several.
- think about who you would ask if you felt brave enough, and what their face would look like when you did.
- ask yourself whether you're avoiding the question because you don't know the answer, or because you do.
for anyone who has learned to live around an unanswered question, carefully, quietly, and who is starting to feel the cost of not knowing.