But instead you wait. You act out in small ways. You take it out on others who just want to see the crinkle in your forehead disappear. You start to ask more questions, pull more scenarios in your head, and fill yourself with a slew of emotions that may not be necessary for the situation. You feel as though you could possibily go crazy because it seems simple.
It seems like a simple question based on the the actions and events that have occurred and the answer should be easy to obtain. But it's not. It's silent, sometimes selfishly so. Do you realize that you have another heart waiting on the line? Do you realize that they won't hang up until you pick up and say the words?
Listen, I am a writer. Words mean everything. I need to hear the words even when actions speak loud and clear. Because sometimes nothing is what it seems. We need to talk. We need words. Not insecurities or silence. Not a wall of issues. We just need to say the words and know that these are the words we stand by. Repeat them over and over again. Those are the ones that stick. Those are the answers we seek if it's what we want.
Don't flip flop on me, don't leave me hanging. Don't use yourself as an excuse because right now, this situation, whatever the situation is, has one more to the equation. It's not about your 'you' stuff at the moment. It's about the stuff you chose to start. It's about the stuff you dragged other people into. You can go back to you later. Just give me what I need to stay or go.
Listen, baby I am a writer. So we know I could write a book on what I'm feeling. As a matter of fact, been there, done that. Said my piece a thousand times over. Sometimes without listening. But I'm listening now. I'm listening to the four walls I choose to confine myself in because sunshine hurts. Sleep is easier than breathing. I could be a workaholic, but everything turns into a 'you'. Every word that turns into a lump of words that comes from the happiness, sadness, pain, anger, lust, compassion, and love you pull out of me.
I'm so sick of being the understanding one babe. Do you not see the hell I am willing to put myself in for you? I am so angry because I just wanted the simple things and have been met with silence, resistance, a straight up fussiness at times while I bend backwards and wait. And wait. And wait some fucking more. I could write a book on all the bad you make me feel. Yet you have the audacity to get mad when I react? Why do I always have to be the one to reach out first? Be a decent person and give me the love or pain that's due for once first. I'm tired of reaching out for my own pleasure or demise. Oh you don't know how vexed you make me...
Until you touch my hand. Until I hear your voice. Until you show those fleeting sweet moments that makes me sit here in knots and wait. And wait some more. And wait some fucking more, all for simply
Come find me in limbo sweetie. I'll be waiting.