Sometimes I call to argue, sometimes just to listen, but my feelings stab me when I can't call; or when I do call, I only listen to the stroke of keyboards, a grunt of dismay due to some wide hipped woman's retorts in an environment I no longer belong. The laughter I long to hear comes because some other crazy woman talks with a kooky accent like Ms. Quan from Mad TV--again from that same environment I don't belong in. So while the Odella's and Marnie's of this world reach the heights of their success, I'm forgotten, but note, I'm not gone--just elsewhere searching for an environment where I belong.
I wanted attention, just equal time as those who cause such great chagrin, but I don't warrant that because I exist, for one, much better in a visual that stimulates remote memories. They all have each other when they need sympathy, but I'd much prefer a long embrace. I'd prefer to discuss it but I'm denied what others are so freely allowed. Would it matter? Where an explanation would help out, I'd probably get another excuse and once again have the blame shifted on me. Yes, we used to connect so well, but now he has no time, got got got, got no time--no time left for me.
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