there's a whole lot you don't talk about. but so what?
it's not like the world lives to hear you out, or that you need attention in copious amounts, or that you have anything particularly remarkable to say that no one else ever has.
but then, a friend would hold your hand, sit beside you for an unknown number of hours, ask you the right questions, the simple questions. and you'd crumble. you'd realize just how much you want to be seen, heard, felt. just how much you want to not be neglected anymore.
and the silly boy you had a crush on for god knows how many years, would give you a call at exactly the wrong time. you'd be in the middle of a breakdown but you'd still pick up his call because you can't stand to let go of any opportunity to be perceived by him. even in a moment like that.
and he'd notice the tremble in your voice, and the way you'd sniff occasionally as he'd fill you in on a hilarious thing that happened to him. he'd ask you what's wrong and your tear ducts would take that as a go sign to work over time.
and in the midst of it all, your friends, your crush, that one english teacher who treated you better than your own mother ever could, they would all tell you when you were done speaking- "why didn't you ever say something?"
and you'd blurt something pathetic out like, "i didn't think it mattered. that i mattered."
and you'd watch the concern on their face get contaminated by pity. which, in turn, would shut you up for another couple of years until someone made you feel safe enough again.
and this time, you'd hope that you weren't pitied. that you were heard, seen, understood. and you held out hope like a burning matchstick on a windy day.
maybe one day the wind will stop.
the matchstick will burn.
your hope will be answered.