I sat there, helpless, watching as you struggled to talk. Rather than telling me what was wrong, you laughed and made jokes, refusing to answer my incessant questions. In any other scenario, I would have loved to see you joke around like your usual care-free self. But not when your smile is forced, breaking at the edges and ready to collapse. Not when your eyes are dark and stormy, void of the electricity that I love so much. Not when you refuse to look at me because you're afraid it'll give too much away. Not like this.
You try to keep everything to yourself. Just five minutes and then it's back to the real world, like nothing ever happened. There are gashes left upon your skin that you attempt to cover with bandaids, but you forget they're not water proof. You try to ignore them, let them fester while you numb away the pain. The sweet smell hangs around the air and stains your clothes, but it eventually washes away.
I watched everything because that's all I could really do. Nothing I said could get you to talk to me. Nothing I said could wash away your thoughts. So I just sat there. Watching. Breaking. I had to step away for a bit to cry; it would have been selfish of me to cry in front of you while you were obviously dealing with problems yourself. It was like a stab in the chest when you refused to let me help you.
Yet, when you finally opened up to me, you didn't say much, but it was enough. The way you were talking tore me to pieces. It was the first time I really got to see that side of you. It made me realize that I'm failing to do my job: making you happy.
You said you made a promise for someone, and that's why you're still here. Am I not the reason you want to stay?
You said all you wanted was a night of happiness. Am I not enough to make you happy?
You said you'll have a purpose once you have kids. Am I not enough motivation?
Maybe I'm missing something. Maybe I'm doing something wrong. Because to me, you're all that and more. But do you feel the same?
YOU ARE READING
Because Nobody Listens
AcakThey say that they listen, that they understand how we feel. But all they hear is words. They don't know how heavy the words felt on our tongue, how much strength it took to say them out loud. But no one hears that part of the story. Instead of yel...
