Not Even You.

NOT EVEN YOU.

No one understands.

They look at you with one glance, and they think they know everything.

They look at you, but they don't see you.

All they do is assume: Assume you understand. Assume you're okay. Assume you agree. Assume you want to. Assume you can.

They want to assume you are exactly the same as everyone else; that you are unexceptional.

They have no idea.

It's your fault too, because you don't say anything.

It's either that, or you don't know how to say what you want or need to say.

You're just there, staring. Eyes blank. Silent as a worm. Inside clenched fists, warm, red blood dripping.

They can't tell that inside, you're actually expanding. Writhing. Exploding. That you're furious. Full of loathing. Full of longing.

It's a tough world indeed.

No one understands.

Maybe not even you.

***

END.

By La Belle Rocher

At Hyde Park. 1815H. 15 February 2015.