But, do I even know me?
However, I know you.
I can't hold a conversation about me.
I always think of you.
I listen to you.
Yet, you never ask about me.
You talk about you.
Because of this, I can't talk about me with you.
I can't answer simple questions like, "What do you like?"
Even then, I can tell you what all my friends like.
I can't answer, "What are your favorite movies?"
Still, I can tell you what my family members are.
I can never answer questions about myself because I can never think about myself. I always think of you.
And you. You. And you, too.
I always listen to you, and you, as well.
I'm there for you, and all of you.
I sacrifice for you guys.
I choose to do all of this.
At the same time, because I do this for you, I guess I thought you'd do it for me too.
But, I never speak. And I don't know me.
I never talk about me.
I only listen to you.
YOU ARE READING
Finding Joy
PoésieI never spent time seeking joy. I only spent time making a bed comfortable enough in sadness to bare it. Now, I'll see and work at finding joy. This is a continuation of "We Are the Normal Ones: Memoirs of a Fallen Human".
