The forgotten snow dust…

You and ‘Me’ in Your Eyes.

As if ‘you’ know everything about every single human being, you speak.
How ‘they’ are, how to approach ‘them’, how to understand ‘them’.
How to please both your side and ‘theirs’, how to read ‘them’.
All of ‘them’, except ‘me’.

Maybe you simply have never met ‘me’.
What you think is the right thing to do, is not always the right one if it’s about ‘me’.
We are close, maybe the ‘closest’, but not close enough.
Not enough so you can see ‘me’, not ‘like the other human beings’.

I don’t understand.
I always see your world, so vast and bright that it hurts my eyes.
Speech and laughter are far more acceptable, more happily welcomed.
Voices running around, reaching each other.

I’m pretty sure I’m not the only ‘me’?
Since I’ve know several ‘me’ myself, it must not be that hard meeting a ‘me’, right?
Are there any ‘me’ in those ‘they’ you always talking about?
You never talk about ‘me’ in my world. Only you, we, and they in your own shiny world.

‘Me’ is not exist in your eyes.
The only thing I should do is being ‘you’, following your way.
Don’t you know that your way is even rarely agreeable for ‘me’?
It fulfills your wants. It fulfills your needs. But it’s not about ‘me’.

Is ‘me’ really don’t exist in your eyes?
Or it simply ‘me’ who’s too sneaky, that you don’t even notice.
Or it simply ‘me’ who’s too hideous, that you see ‘me’ as ‘them’?
Or ‘you’ have simply given up? Being in a denial.

‘Me’ is just a delinquency in your eyes, an illness to be cured.
A rebellion to be stopped, an abnormalities to be taken care of.
You think being ‘you’  or ‘them’ is the only right way to live.
You think you have to do something before ‘me’ goes too much astray.

You don’t. I’m not broken.
Not broken enough and will not be.
But only if you stop trying to make ‘me’ ‘them’.
I am ‘me’ and I’m not interested being ‘them’, not even a bit.

‘Me’ is not exist in your eyes.
You try so hard to erase it. You try so hard to change me into ‘them’.
Can’t you see my mask? Or I’m too good in disguise that you can’t even find the difference?
Can’t you see my tears? Or you mistake it as an expression of joy?

You glorify speech so much.
Do you know that for some, speech is a curse?
Patterns of words and tones, only to create lies by lies.
Do you know that for some, text is more honest?

Who is silence for you?
An enemy to be killed?
A garbage to be demolished?
What if I embrace silence, just like every other ‘me’?

Silence is dumb.
Speak more. Speak. Speak. Speak.
No, I don’t want to.
Speech is abundant, it’s as fake as how you see texts in my ears.

Have you ever try to look at ‘me’?
Without seeing me as a part of ‘them’?
I am ‘me’.
‘Me’ doesn’t belong in your world.

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