Tell me more

I try not to think about your lack of need for explanations. I try not to think about how fine you appear to be with most of everything. I try not to think about the lack of emotions involved. I try not to let it bother me too much even though it truly does bring me to tears. // I wish you showed more. //

I try to be less sensitive about it all. I try to never fuss about much. I try to absorb all of it and remind myself to let everything fade away into forgetting, because this is exactly what I've been taught these past years. And even if it bothers the deepest part of my soul, I stop speaking much about it. I let it all fade away. I guess you can say it's why I've been so changed. Something in me has altered. I don't quite know how to explain this. But it's as if I've repressed my wanting to feel, to the extend that I feel as though I've been truly incapable of emotions. As hopeless romantic as I am, none of it possess much hope in my eyes. I speak about my dreams of the future with so much excitement, smiling from ear to ear but if you really look me in the eye, sit and quiz me about how I honestly feel, it'll be nothing but hopelessness. I'll tell you how I fear none of it would come true. Melancholy, that's all you'd get behind the facade of excitement // The speaking of dreams, something I truly wish would come true but the melancholy represents the truth //

Show me, show me something I don't already know. Tell me, tell me more. Tell me everything.