For the girl who always listens to your problems and offers advice, whether you take it or not, but never shares hers – this is for that girl. For the girl who helps you when you ask her to, but doesn’t ask for your help in return – this is for that girl. For the girl who may bitch and rant about a co-worker, but never really talks about the heavy deep sad stuff inside – this is for that girl. For the girl who grew up learning that you didn’t show that you were sad, hurt, or upset and had to go to your room or outside so that no one would see it – this is for that girl. For the girl who really wants to talk about why she’s so sad but she can’t get past the gigantic lump in her throat – this is for that girl. For the girl who finally opens up about something that hurts and the person she is speaking to doesn’t get how momentous it is and instead turns the conversation to their own agenda – this is for that girl. For the girl who answers “How are you doing?” with a dodge, an “I’m fine,” or quickly has to go do something in the other room so that you don’t see her crack into pieces – this is for that girl. For the girl who reaches out emotionally and apologizes for her behavior and gets a condescending reply in response – this is for that girl. For the girl who makes an effort and begins sharing some of her secrets, but you think she isn’t sharing at all – this is for that girl. For the girl who looks strong and solid on the outside, but is a molten lava mess of tears, pain, and emotions on the inside – this is for that girl.
That girl is such a good listener, that you never once wondered why you never had to listen to her. That girl is an island of her own making, sinking any boats that dare come near her shores. That girl is a steaming tea kettle on a stove, whistling in a pitch that no one hears. That girl is in pain. That girl is me.