There’s a whole world out there.
People, places, things – Nouns that abound! Offering their glories and hearts to me. Inviting me to dance and play, sing in the glow of the everyday.
And yet, there you stand. Completely unawares that your very presence, your image, holds me back as you charge forth down paths unknown.
A good person yes. Lovely, funny, charming …. frustratingly so.
What is it about you that makes me live in the past? What is it about you makes me repeat the same song and dance. Until my soles are worn and my head hangs limply in defeat? As you sway in time with your ignorance. Around the elephant that looms so large, casting shadows over every sashay.
What is it about you that makes me mute? Do you understand your effect on unsuspecting extroverts?
What about you makes me write these pithy, shallow words/drivel/trite?
I implore you. Talk Say something. Anything.
But you won’t read this. You don’t hear me.
But what is it about you?