I am sitting over here, silently angry over something you
don’t know you did.
Secretly annoyed that you don’t know you did it,
But unwilling to bring it to light.
This isn’t the first time you have insulted me in such a
way.
And yes, I took it personally.
You seem to think that you can smooth anything over with
some sugar.
Well, you are wrong.
It doesn’t matter how you frost the cake if it has been made
with rocks instead.
You always say you love me,
You say you always will.
Why then, is respect for who I am not imperative?
I feel I am becoming an object.
I have thought this once before, that you do not know the
real me.
How can you love that which you do not know?
But you said you did and I believed you.
You proved me wrong, or so I thought, you had me fooled for
a long time.
But now I am wondering again.
So many things that make me me,
You cannot seem to comprehend.
I didn’t think it was going to be like this, I thought it
was going to be like everything I wanted.
But it’s not. Not yet. Not now. It was, for a while.
But can it ever be that way? Is it even worth it to imagine,
or am I wishing for the impossible?
I am returning, to where I was, to the way I thought.
I will never be truly understood.
And that is ok, because that is life.
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