It Must Be So Good To Exist
Is it really that hard to punch a gentle word for the sake of how someone would feel?
I put on a strong facade in front of others to be seen tough, but I often fall on my knees. I used to listen to a ton of people's stories, but mine wasn't even heard. I chose to be present to celebrate their win, but they didn't even bother to come when I needed a shoulder.
I used to pay attention to every detail about them, but when I asked them about my favorite color, no one even remembered. I dwell in every conversation and think of the next thing to say because I don't like an awkward silence in between, but they don't mind letting my coffee turn cold. I'm used to bottling up my emotions because I'm the older one, or someone who always understands.
Maybe that's it. One has to become a bigger, less distinct picture to be seen, just to make people stay. But that's not how things should work, shouldn't it? I have feelings too. I feel hurt too every time I take things seriously, but people don't mind, or every time I cook meals, but they don't appreciate the effort. I mean, I don't need to hear a long speech from them that they don't truly mean, for all of that will just vanish into thin air. Empty.
I just want to be seen.
Not just as a bigger picture,
but as a whole canvas.
With a heart that's hurting—
and easily torn.
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