lux aeterna

Something always happens. Ever notice how you’re always unable to talk in-depth, coherently with me? You’re always tired or stressed or injured or something. And yet you still want me to talk. Want me to feed you topics, never touching on things I want to know, things I have questions about. You never ask me questions, either. I analyze you constantly, but you never make a real effort to know anything about me, figure out anything about me or what’s going on in my life. I know you already know a lot about me, but you can’t possibly know everything that goes on in my head, all the time.

Ask me what happened during the day. Give me specific examples of situations with people, things you found curious, all your information gathering. Tell me about someone who is starting to mean a lot to you, tell me about intimate moments that happened between you that made you feel closer to them. Tell me about something that annoyed you about something that day, tell me something that’s been bothering you about the past. Tell me something that’s been bothering you about me. Tell me about your life at home, the books you read, the vacations you’ve been on, one of your friends I haven’t met yet.

And ask me the same things. How do I know you are thinking about me… really thinking about me, when you never really go back and talk about things that happen? You never bring things up after they’re done… little moments of discord, moments of confusion, times where I hint at something and then never talk about it again. It hurts when you don’t try to talk about it with me. It seems like you just forget it happened…. Like it was never there. Prove to me that you care about my thoughts… prove that you worry about me too. I used to feel so connected to you… now it feels like you’re drifting into oblivion, caring most about petty things just like everyone else. What are we going to do when I run out of things to question you about? I constantly analyze things in our history and question them… as I have a right to, seeing as parts of my world in the past have been complete falsities, created by the dark part of your mind. I spend a fair share of time in the present, too, keeping up with everything and catching up from the past at the same time. Why do you make no efforts at all to do the same? Have you forgotten, or do you just not care?