Because you don't give me freedom to live it.
There are two words in there.
My: Me. One person. With agency.
Life: All of the experiences that happen uniquely to that one person.
You hurt me.
YOU. HURT. ME.
I don't remember the last time you gave me a compliment that didn't end with "but..." or "if you just..."
I just remember when you didn't listen.
Sometimes you hear, but you NEVER LISTEN.
Do you know what it means to listen?
It doesn't mean you belittle my opinions.
It doesn't mean your comfort comes before my own.
I hate hats.
I hate colored jeans.
I hate your stupid manila folders you always force on me.
I hate that you're leaving me for so long. Again.
I don't hate you, but I can't do it anymore. You ask why I'm angry, and maybe if you listened you would understand why.
Because we both know "I'm fine." is the biggest lie I ever told.
Because I try to tell you. I feel like you're behind your own little glass wall. You only let the things you want in.
Apparently you don't want me.
I love you so much that it hurts. But lately that's all it does. I don't feel safe outside of my own room now. That why I spend so much time in there.
I can't hurt you in here, and you can't hurt me.
I don't know. Maybe your absence will do me good. Good being relative, of course.
I just don't know.
IloveyouLeavemealoneHearmeLovemeListen.
