I Hear Everything
By Anonymous
hear you. I hear everything.
The rain drumming the window. The buzzing of the
computers. The air-conditioning ruffling the paper on my desk.
Your voice swims in a sea of distraction that my ears as nets fail to catch.
I watch your eyes roll. Their derision scything the buds of my confidence. And shrink in the shame of knowing I’ve disappointed you.
Recoiling deeper into the shadows of myself, away from the
electric glare of your annoyance.
I bend my reality to fit your expectations. I squeeze myself smaller and smaller to fit within the confines
of my box. My place.
My body aches with the strain of it.
And yet, it’s my exhausted mind that’s expected to climb the hills of your incomprehension.
Why can’t you bend your reality and pull me into the bright skies of understanding? Of your understanding?
Why do you expect these tired arms to do all the heavy lifting, when they can barely traverse this conversation?
You demand attention.
I request awareness.
Less able to comprehend your words when forced to stare into the iron grip of your gaze. Witness to your dissatisfaction. Prisoner of your condescension.
Hauling yourself above me, using the derision of others to build a pedestal as all-encompassing and as fragile as your ego.
Gilded in self-satisfaction. Raised by your own weakness you build monument to the thoughtlessness of your words scaled by those forced to carve themselves into strange forms.
Unnerved by my resistance.
Terrified of the minor inconvenience assisting me may require.
You wage wars with those too terrified to resist. And calling that victory.
I am listening; I do hear you.
Everything you’re not saying.
