I have no idea if you understand why. Perhaps, to you, it’s just me being my usual self. No it isn’t. There’s always a deeper explanation to things you don’t understand than it’s just what I want, no reasons behind it.
You’ve always been annoyed at how “suckish” I explain. You always get frustrated, angry at the fact that when you ask me, I give you tautological answers. Truth be told, I don’t. If you’ve paid attention, you would know. If you remembered, you would understand.
But you don’t.
You always set aside things I say to you after we talk. Or at least that’s how it appears to me. You seem to forget every detail of it. It became tiring, after having to explain myself to you, how you seem indifferent about it all after a while. Did it sink in? Did the words make it to your brain? Was I able to make a point? I’d never know. I always think yes, but then, after some time, I wonder again. What percentage of what I told you did you truly understand?
But again, that’s just how it seems. I would never know because you always keep things to yourself. No, I’m not saying it’s wrong, but it would really be nice if you share your thoughts once in a while. Keeping them all in your head, leaving me clueless, and then you’d turn to me with outbursts? Sigh.
I write you the longest letters. You receive the utmost effort of mine in explaining things I want you to understand. Things I want you to grasp. But you never seem to do so. If it’s a defense, you deem it insufficient. If it’s a story behind my actions, my reactions, you “listen”. No, you just hear them out. For the sake of letting me speak my mind so I can calm down? I don’t know.
And here, I write again, hoping that at least you’d understand. Even if not change.