Through the Dark Glass

Photo by Arun Anoop on Unsplash

Learned to speak in whispers when the world only heard shouts, built my house on quiet ground while they chased the crowds about. Every word I carefully chose became a stranger in their mouth, lost in translation, north when they were heading south.

I stopped explaining somewhere along the road, when “I love you” sounded like “leave me alone.” I have been a book in a language nobody took the time to learn, a foreign film with subtitles that always seems to miss the turn. Misunderstood all my life, like a color called by the wrong name, not broken, not wrong, just framed in a different kind of flame.

They said I was too sensitive, then too cold when I withdrew, too much, then never enough, whatever fit their view. I wore a thousand masks just to make the passing easier, but every mask became a mirror that made the distance clearer.

So, I stopped performing somewhere back along the road when being myself became the heaviest load. Being seen is rare, and being known is underrated. I’m learning now that some hearts were never meant to be translated. I’ll keep my strange and tender soul, and let it be what it will be, and if they don’t understand me, it’s okay because I understand me.

So, if you feel like no one gets you, like you're singing out of key, remember the song’s not wrong love, it’s just not for everybody.

Trudy Perez