because when you know it seems different,
i have told you only part
of the story. every time.
because you
offer advice when i need comfort,
i tell you the parts
that bring me to angry tears
and not the ones
that cause me to cry in sorrow. i wish
you would tell me it is okay. but that
is where we are so different.
because you
are incapable of reaching out physically,
i tell you only those things
that can be solved by a kind word. i wish
you would give me an all-encompassing hug.
because you
do not understand the difference
between pity and sympathy, you offer your condolences
and i grind my teeth. why can't you understand? why
can't you understand me? that
is quite a difference.
because you
have a different definition of "wrong" than i do,
i don't argue the hazy gray when i have been
(in my standards) wronged. i tell you only
what you agree with. it's always like that. i tell you only
what you already think. i tell you only
of my anger. i tell you only
my minor issues. i tell you only
that which is small enough to allow pity. i tell you only
what you know. you do not learn from me, and when you pretend
it only makes it worse in my eyes.
because you
pretend to understand, i know
that you can never understand. not me. you
can never understand me. i try
anyway. there's the real difference. i try anyway.
you only pretend.
because you
do not understand me, i cannot live
like this. you can. there's the difference.