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Look, I'm HEARING you, alright? It's just that in btw the recap of your grocery run, What Mr. Miller Said To His Wife and your chattering on about needing to call your best friend for that Apple Brown Betty recipe, I just can't remember what the issue even IS!
I hear you. I hear the things you don't say, too. The slow echo between heartbeats, the breaths like rising tides. The thin smile, the sigh of hunger smoldering in a cold, dead fire. Blinking tears of boredom like blood on razor wire. Eternally adrift on a still, indifferent sea. You no longer want what you desire. Or maybe that's just me.
I feel we both represent our interests best when we talk right past one another. No messy middle ground, no partial understandings, no chance that either of us will be misunderstood. I'm in the same room as you, I'm actively engaged in vigorously making my point, and you haven't heard a word I've said, and don't feel a bit obligated to react to anything I say, however condescendingly you might, if you heard even one syllable I've ever offered.
This is perfect. Don't ever change, you deaf, blind tool.
Well, we do need to talk. But it will help if you admit one thing or another. Or call them by their real names, you know? What is the point of pretending anymore? Yes, lets be e-x-p-l-i-c-i-t! Whoa! What a revelation. I know, we will never be able to go back after that. But you know, it might be better. Otherwise, I can keep talking to the wall and the furniture. I get the same feedback, dammit.
photo by splunge
photo by TheophileEscargot
photo by Kronos_to_Earth
photo by ethylene
