beloved , on this the eve of your punishment (10 thousand years suffering immediately no parole), you may be tempted to think - but i really could have communicated it better, then they would have understood me.
you can try as long as you like to explain something: if the other person is not curious, kind, and willing to learn, no explanation will ever work. you would know if someone was trying their absolute best to understand you, despite the immortal problem of all humans being exactly the same and also never quite alike.
there is a difference between being heard and being listened to. i am a little blind in my left eye - you can explain what i do-not-see, but i will not be able to see it. i will listen, though, and you will feel heard. my perspective maybe not be exactly what you meant, perhaps, but no poem ever really escapes unscathed from the poet. the book i write about you will never really capture every facet. communication is imperfect and fluid; that's why it is behind all forms of art.
sometimes it is not even that you said something wrong, sometimes it is that you said something at all; and they do not respect you. sometimes it is that what you said is true, and they are scared to face that truth. sometimes it makes them feel wrong (guilty, ashamed), and they cannot listen or they will have 10 thousand years suffering in the personality equivalent of forced rhubarb growth.
ah. i see you rattling your chains. yes, my love, the hard part: this means the largest part of it was them, and their choice. after all, if you had been approached by someone pleading for understanding, wouldn't you have endeavored to at least attempt some degree of civil engagement? you would have, i know you. which means they saw you like that - desperate, wild, someone they were supposed to love - and they still thought this is not enough.
you have been begging them. they have watched you beg them for understanding, and they have not moved. you did not have a communication issue. the issue was with how they treated you.
this is the manner where we will begin your torture. what is immediately and impossibly evident to you is impenetrable to them: and that lack of understanding is, in all likelihood, at least a little bit on purpose.
i am sorry to say it because if you turn your eyes downwards to my ankles you will find i am also serving my 10 thousand years. i am saying this from the place you will be soon. before the dungeon swallows you, one final remark, i suppose: it wasn't your fault, and I love you.
