The greatest sorrow is misunderstanding. When you can't find your words and so simply nod along. It's the great racking sobs, the shuddering breath from your lungs. The dried tears, cringing from the screams. The shaking hands. How do I express myself? Without being called fake, without being called a dissapointment. When they say they don't yell at me because I never do anything, becasue they don't expect anything from me.
They don't realize how it sounds. They don't recognize the signs, are too blind to see or perhaps I am just too cut-off. So they misunderstand when their little girl needs to talk, her mother isn't going to listen. So who better to turn to then the one next door? The one who will listen.
Who is so misunderstood.
