Giving up the gun

I'm getting to the point where I'm losing my voice and settling into the complacency of knowing that my thoughts only matter to me.

My thoughts encompass myself- my feelings, my ideals, my social consciousness. Everything that matters. But they're nothing to most everyone. Even the people who say they care about me refuse to listen.

I try and pull them in and whisper the things I hide away in their ears. But they are deaf and blind to me. They shoo me away. They babble all the time. They are so caught up in the day to day. They do not know me at all.

Instead of showing me I am worth something by listening when I try to share a tiny piece of myself, they force an image on me. They throw out adjectives: sweet, funny, mellow. You can't see the way these words are like chains. They hold me down in a confined space. Stepping out of that tiny room you put me in creates an uproar. "Angela, you're never like that, this isn't like you."

You don't know how alone I feel most of the time. Alone in this room you made for me. Each room is different, but they're all just as small.

When I do something wrong, there's no pardon, only reprimand. I have to say I'm sorry for not being in my box, the way you like it. But you never say you're sorry for putting me in there.

I want to be really obscure and hide in a cubby hole of music

I'm tired of trying to be anything to anybody. I just want to sit and listen to music. I just want to hide myself behind a wall of lyrics you don't understand and compositions that aren't easily accessible and enjoy something that you probably don't or can't. I only want to feel close to the people who listen to Girls and know what I'm referencing when I say "ashes grammar- ashes maths" without googling it; people who can sing every single word to 1901.

I want the words to speak for me, and I just want to live in a place where I don't ever have to do anything but throw out a single lyric, and be completely understood.