sometimes you say something, and it falls to the floor with a dull thud. cumbersome deadweight on deaf ears. the intended recipient doesn’t notice: too busy with something else, too far out of earshot, too something. but they’re not ignoring you. they don’t hear.
they don’t hear.
they
don’t
hear
you…
words sound hollow and brassy in your own ears. is that what i really sound like?, you think. god, how stupid…no wonder no one heard. no wonder my words are just lying there, like a lost, ratty sock or something. useless, but somehow offensive just by merely being there.
and then it hits you. and you think…
you think
(you shouldn’t think so much)
you think and then roll inward, withdraw. curl up inside yourself before a nauseous questioning takes over. before you get a chance to wonder…am i really there? which is just beyond retarded, actually. and then you feel dumber for even being bothered by it, but you can’t help but wonder…can’t help the split-second thought that maybe, just maybe, you can fade away as easily as some stupid thing you said. because no one heard it (which is worse than being ignored, really), just like no one sees your meaningless words hanging in the air like fat, dumpy rainclouds. because they’re fading, with each second fading faster and faster into the complete silence that was there before you even bothered to open your fool mouth. so maybe you can fade just as easily.
and that’s just stupid.
