Open your mouth.

It's been asleep I do confess
And now it's raging, I profess
And so my anger, my distress
Are opened up and laid to rest

I am not an agressor. I never have been.
I don't care what most other people think. There was a time when I said that I didn't but I really did. Now, for the first time, I don't. And I'm pretty sure that I'm telling the truth this time.
I don't care for sugar-coated criticisms.
I don't care for allegory (unless it's written by C.S. Lewis -- are you C.S. Lewis? I didn't think so), so stop talking in poorly-disguised metaphor.
I'm not as dumb as I look or sound.
I choose my words carefully not because I am afraid of being misunderstood, of being underestimated, of seeming stupid. I choose my words carefully because there are words available to be chosen, nuances to be drawn upon. And there is beauty in them.
I have no problem listening to complaints. Go ahead, throw your shit on me because I can handle it and it's what I do. It's my version of being a good friend, so pile it on.
Just call me Atlas.
But if you do call me Atlas...don't slam doors.
Speak.
I am a hypocrite at times, and I'll be the first to admit it. I'd like to think that my hypocrisy doesn't extend to denial of hypocrisy.
If you really care about me, then don't crucify me for my shortcomings.
I haven't criticized you.
Atlas, remember?
As much as I talk like it, I'm not actually judgemental. I like to talk. That's all.
When it seems like I don't know what's going on...well, here's the warning: I probably do. I just won't let on because I think it makes you more comfortable.
I like to sing in the shower. I had stopped for a while, probably out of my self-consciousness. But not anymore; I won't be silenced. I love to sing in the shower.
Stop with the constant screaming you two-faced son of a bitch and I swear I'll stop harassing you with my silence.
Why doesn't anyone get me? I'm not cryptic...at least I don't think so.
Stop minding your own business. A friend asks.
By the way...a friend also answers.
Do it if you care.
I hope you care.
I care. That's why I do it. I hope you do too.
And please, I can't handle the costant flaunting of your ingratitude so please make it stop. I'll hold your problems, I'll take any blame you need to fling my way, I'll nurse your ailment, I'll turn my cheek, I'll take it on my shoulders. In fact, I already do. But stop the ingratitude.
Your passive agressiveness gets you nowhere, and I still refuse to respond to it.
I am not as strong as I pretend to be. But I keep pretending because it makes it easier on everyone else. As I do daily. I do it for you, too. And I'll continue.
I give you my support, and not my opinion. You never asked for it. And I ask for similar treatment from you.
I am angry much of the time, but I don't let you see. I am troubled much of the time, but you never notice. I am disappointed much of the time, but you never notice. I am upset much of the time but you never notice. And that's okay. Because I guess I'm too busy noticing you.
Open your damn eyes.
Your selfishness disappoints me but you will never know it. Because even though it continues to rage, I'll still give you whatever it is that you need of me.
I am not asking for thanks. I am asking for openness.
You are not alone, and you never have been. And for the life of me I can't understand why you still feel that way. I have done everything for you and you have not once batted an eyelash.
Just speak. Please, speak. If you hate me, speak. If you love me, speak. If you need me, speak. Open your mouth. Open your damn mouth.
You're not a freaking mute.

Fiction?





I wish.