All my life I have heard you say all the wrong things at the wrong time because I know that you don’t know how to express your feelings and that you say things when you are mad that you don’t mean. Or so those are the excuses that I have been force-fed my entire life.
The words sit in my mouth, I remain silent and nod my head, faking my sympathy, because I am afraid that if one word slips, it will act as some projectile vomit. Everything that I have ever stored will spew out violently. Like daggers, the words will slash at my throat as I aim them at you, hoping that it will hurt you more than it hurts me each time I swallowed them.
LITTLE KIDS ARE EXCUSED FOR THE THINGS THEY SAY BECAUSE THEY HAVE NO SELF-CONTROL, NOT GROWN MEN. The difficulty to swallow, wouldn’t it be easier to let it all out? I GET MAD TO BUT I KNOW THAT EVERYTHING HAS ITS LIMITS. I feel the words on the tip of my tongue, I love the feeling that I get. I allow you to continue talking and I swish the words within my mouth, my favorite mouthwash. Yet when I am done with it, I swallow, never allowing myself that feeling of freshness. HOW COULD YOU SAY ALL THOSE THINGS TO ME AND BECOME SURPRISED THAT I AM HURT? I can feel them, the words crawling up my throat, lunging themselves, attempting to pry open my mouth. The longer they remain within me, the more acidic they become, and it begins to burn as I ingest them.
Temptation strikes me, but then I look at you.
You have no filter, your words are bacteria-infected. You do not have time to feel their acidity because you launch them out onto others the minute the thought enters your mind. It’s so easy to allow the words to flow out effortlessly, and then to simply recant your statement with, “You know how I am.”
Yes, I do.
Which is why I refuse to be you.
And at the end of the night, after we have talked, well our version of you talking without thinking and me thinking without speaking. I lay in my bed and all I can think of:
Are you proud of me?
Do you miss me?
What has become of us?
Can we go back to the time where you were the one holding the shield for me?
Can we forget that now I wield the shield toward you?