Don’t talk to me about the fucking weather. Don’t tell me about the forecast and how it calls for rain, or how you’re terrified that winter will arrive earlier than expected. I don’t want to hear your thoughts on the autumn chill, or your opinion on the season change. Instead, tell me about the changes you’ve seen in yourself. Tell me about how the rain makes you sentimental because it reminds you of your grandfather, or how you love to look at the sky because it reminds you of your ounce best friend, or how you never got to hug him goodbye. I don’t care about your favourite colour of T-shirt. Tell me about the shades you saw in your lovers eyes when you told them of your love for the first time. I want to know what it felt like to have your heart fucking broken, and if you’ve ever cried just thinking about the one that got away. Tell me how much it kills you inside. I want to hear the words you never allowed yourself to say. I don’t care about your “I’m greats.” When I ask you how you’re doing, I mean it genuinely. Its okay to tell me that your day was terrible, or that you’re hurting inside. Its okay to tell me that you just want to hide, or that you feel as if you can’t confide in the people you call friends. What makes your heart sore? I want to hear about the night you cried in the arms of your mother. Tell me about the feelings you keep undercover, all the opinions and all the fears you ‘ve never shared with another. But please, don't talk to me about the fucking weather. #wip #fucksmalltalk
