"Oh, no", they say. "Oh, no"
And "Still?"
And "I think you need some help"
And "But he is a-"
i wish i knew for sure if it was all in my head. it would help if i knew. have i said this before? maybe not as unemotionally. (aoccsionion. i wish i could have told you.) i want to know that my little secret feeling that you were not entirely indifferent to me was not my imagination. and you may say, what does it matter now (and by now you mean now that it's over and you are nothing more to me than somebody i once used to know) the way you said it about the book you promised me and that i will never receive the way all other promises that everybody else made fell by the wayside; you will probably not understand it, but it does matter, it does. it matters because knowing will mean the difference between real and imaginary and stupid and crazy and this time and next time.
It is such a little thing, the truth. And for all you have said, you have refused me that little thing. Are you not one of the people who "recognize that honesty may bring pain, but lack of honesty will cut even deeper."?
I quote you at yourself as if it will make you listen. I don't know. Perhaps it is just to prove to myself that I have been listening. I always listened. I always did. Perhaps that was the reason why I heard things that...weren't apparent. Now all I need is to know that they weren't true.
It would be such a huge thing, such a little thing. A moment of discomfort to give a fellow creature some comfort. A pain to lessen another's pain. In honour of the things that went before, and if there ever was a day when you were happier because I was around.
Could you not do that much for me?
And "Still?"
And "I think you need some help"
And "But he is a-"
i wish i knew for sure if it was all in my head. it would help if i knew. have i said this before? maybe not as unemotionally. (aoccsionion. i wish i could have told you.) i want to know that my little secret feeling that you were not entirely indifferent to me was not my imagination. and you may say, what does it matter now (and by now you mean now that it's over and you are nothing more to me than somebody i once used to know) the way you said it about the book you promised me and that i will never receive the way all other promises that everybody else made fell by the wayside; you will probably not understand it, but it does matter, it does. it matters because knowing will mean the difference between real and imaginary and stupid and crazy and this time and next time.
It is such a little thing, the truth. And for all you have said, you have refused me that little thing. Are you not one of the people who "recognize that honesty may bring pain, but lack of honesty will cut even deeper."?
I quote you at yourself as if it will make you listen. I don't know. Perhaps it is just to prove to myself that I have been listening. I always listened. I always did. Perhaps that was the reason why I heard things that...weren't apparent. Now all I need is to know that they weren't true.
It would be such a huge thing, such a little thing. A moment of discomfort to give a fellow creature some comfort. A pain to lessen another's pain. In honour of the things that went before, and if there ever was a day when you were happier because I was around.
Could you not do that much for me?
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