Hear Me

Stephen asks me what's wrong.

Idiot.

I chuckle darkly and repeat what he asked.

Everything's wrong.

I tell him that this wasn't how everything was supposed to be.

I wasn't supposed to be this fucked up.

He asks how things were supposed to be.

Different.

I say that this was supposed to be less fucked up.

Life needs to be simpler.

He says life is difficult.

No, my life is difficult.

I tell him that he has no fucking idea what I've been through.

No one knows the whole story.

He tells me to tell him.

I will most certainly not.

I refuse to let anybody in.