And in the silence comes the collision of all of the voices I tend to not listen to any or at least most of the time: it is usually easy--- when I am tired, it is hard.

The phrase "you should," and in terms of things people want me to do, people who "care about" me, people who have __MY__ best interest, when my best interest has nothing to do with me or things I do in general and I'm in the middle of a forest with a light shining only on my feet screaming for all the stares to just stop yelling at me. I want them to stop, like staring at a pair of purple panties in the middle of the classroom, they didn't understand, nobody knows. I can't even explain it to myself, how would anyone else be able to distinguish it from where I am shouting? Make it stop... make it stop.

I can't tell you what I mean, only that I feel something like a mess, but I don't want any help. It's not that I won't accept it. It's just that people are different. And it does matter. And I'm glad it's okay for some people but that's all the more reason I don't feel like it makes sense, like Weezy, like inhuman. Trying to be more like Jesus and less like you, do you know what I mean?

It's Jackson Browne playing piano, it's hot summer rain in Georgia, it's something like a crooked melody, it's the joyful sound, it's depression, it's the way an older man will look at you like he doesn't want you but like he already knows your kind, it's like the way we roll along like little spring floaties off of weeds, it's like how awkward it gets when your cat is throwing up, it's something like a loss and this concept that has nothing to do with you. It's a complete lack of understanding. It's the silence. It's okay. It just is. It's also not my fault. And that's okay, too.