Listen. Wait. Break.

I'm listening. Tapping my toes against the inside of my shoes. I'm waiting. I've screamed and pleaded. So now I wait. Change happens every day. People can change I've preached, but people are people. They change at their own will. Not mine. I can scream. I can cry. I can zombie out in my depression, but my voice is only heard by those who listen. Those who are selfless. What right do I have to decide that? That moment that they push away their pride and hear me. Truly inhale my words, letting it permeate their soul, resonate off their ear drums, and finally seep into their heart. Change. It's a waiting game. It's exhausting. It's frustrating. It's something I can't control. It's something that's not a spntaneous reaction to my emotions. I weep and they fold. I scream and they open their eyes. My depression keeps my lips pressed. My walls up, and thick with cement. I can close myself off to anyone. I fill that void with obsessions. My weight. My ADD. My cigarettes. My clothes. My make up. My hair. I abuse my spirit until someone notices. The commentary is subliminal. I need a voice. So I listen. Rocking my crossed leg while I wait.

I left it in the toilet. I didn't bother to clean up. Like a potty trained child crapping his pants. I was screaming for acknowledgement. I HAVE A PROBLEM!! He said he stared at it for five minutes asking himself if he should confront me. In the end he chose silence. At that point I stopped waiting. I covered my ears. I no longer care to hear.