If I were to see the world through your eyes, I know what I will (might?) see. But, I refuse to acknowledge it, I refuse to give your views a place in your heart (that would be mine, for I am you, then). Do you want to hear it?

(Even if you wave your hands in the air, call my naivety a moth in your eye, I don't care, I will speak it out, I will verbalise my thoughts and I will mix your naivety with mine and dip my fingers in the rainbow of their union)

I see a lady, uncaring and tough, the shell hard, cracked at the edges but smooth and unyielding. Insensitive and brutal, rude and unworthy, angry mouth and a pair of angry eyes.

(You must believe in a few?)

I see a glaring lamppost where her heart is, a glistening metal plate below it, like it was bathed in the rain of two decades (how apt), survivor's guilt keeping it close, tucking it away, and the words on the plate troubles me.

(Are you by any chance metaphorical?)

I see her eyes, worn and haggard, events hidden in their pages, an epic she happily hides from her followers. (I wonder what happened in the past two decades?)

Now, now, I know, you will call me biased and I know, I said I wish you saw me for who I really want to be and who I really am, and did you guess which were my honest declarations and which were the saddest admissions on my part? Does it echo off your soul, carve a hole in your heart, to wedge in your guilt for having assumed the worst (or best? Uh huh...) of me?

I think, I know what I will see through your eyes. You see a meek, weak, senseless, gullible child, unsure of her gestures, spineless, cowardly and just...

Stupid.

This stabs me- why, oh why, do I have to appear a stupid of all things to you? Did you know, my face is a clown? It's such a gift to me, I can be anyone behind my face and you wouldn't know who is it that I am. It's a blessing to me, because, my indifference appears stupid to you, my strength to hold my tongue instead of letting it run off in your intolerable presence appears spineless to you (trust me, I know, in those occasions when you dangle words that hurt my pride, you are testing me, you are baiting me, you really want to watch my performance and you are measuring my patience, I am a terrific mind-reader, I bet you never guessed that) . There have been times when I scream internally in my head (and if it were a basketball court, there would be no one in the bleachers left, I know this) but you were ignorant of course. Your every stupid word and stupid poking and incessant pulling of my hair (literally and figuratively) makes me want to scratch your eyeballs out (but I am a very sweet gal, have you seen my smile?)

For the benefit of my future (and colleagues) I have to go with the stupid flow, I have to act stupid and uncaring, I have to appear all non-deranged(gah) and unaffected for the sake of my sanity. (I hate your silver ring, please stop with the I am a music guru attitude. Annoys the hell out of me.)

I wish I could mail you this stupid thing (parts of it), I find writing this so liberating, do you know how I want to cry out in misery when you fix yourself within two feet radius of me? How I wish to turn you into one of those really ugly mannequins with my gaze? (But no, I can never, won't ever look at you, I hate to give you the satisfaction, and you aren't necessarily ugly, but you are a moth in my eye)

______

P.S. Not a poetic piece by any far fetched imagination.  I was going insane. I so was. Thank you wattpad. I love that I can rant.

And this was among the untitled parts for the past two weeks. (I am impressed at my own self)

©VioletEden

30thAugust2017