You want to know how I am? Well, that makes two of us. You want to know the thoughts in my head? Well, so do I. At least, part of me does. And part of me doesn’t. And the part of me that doesn’t, rules. Mostly I keep busy, so I won’t have time to listen to myself. I keep busy, because I’m afraid if I take time, there may be nothing to listen to. And every now and then, when I do hear something, I get scared. What does that thought mean? What am I supposed to do with it? Where should I put it? When it goes away, I breathe easier; and I try to get busy again.
Other people, I look at them, and they seem so filled with thoughts and feelings. How can they get any work done? If I felt and thought as much as most people, I don’t think I’d have the energy for anything else. Sometimes I think feeling and thinking is a fad, and one day it’ll pass. Somewhere, somewhere inside me, I know I must have that which others have; and if I forced myself, I could feel all that’s inside, I’m sure if I forced myself, and I got over the urge to scream, I could tell you a great deal.
But what if I couldn’t stop? And what if I stayed that way, thinking and feeling all over the place, every waking moment? And telling you all about it; getting so that I wanted to; and that I needed someone to listen? No, that doesn’t sound the least bit attractive.
And if I told you everything I thought and everything I felt, and everything I desired, and when I finished, if, but for a split second, you looked at me in silence, I’d feel so alone that the terror would collapse my heart. And even if I survived that, even if I survived the terror, you’d know where my soul lived; and I need to have an unlisted soul. I know you seem to like me, but I know you don’t know me. So what does your affection mean? I see that you’re kind and I see you try to bring me out. But I don’t trust it’s what you really want.
No, even if I knew what I thought and felt, I could not tell you. So please stop asking. I could love you if you stopped asking. Please. Please just, tell me stories of your day and of your life. Distract me, engage me, let me live through you. You can do that, I know you can. It’s your most attractive feature. Just stop asking me how I am, please, before I get annoyed, before I lose patience and get so fed up I tell you, and risk it all, and face the terror which runs my life.And if you make me go there, I will only resist you and resent you, and neither of us will be happy.
So you tell me how you are, and I will listen, and I’ll take your hand, and I’ll make you glad you’re a man. But I will not tell you how I am. I can’t tell you. Ever.
kianamaiart
andulkaphoto
vaporwave
gummygunk
2087
