Justprompts- "If you want God to laugh, tell him about your plans."
"I sit here with all of them, listening to you. I drink, and if I desire attention, I mock and snip and make biting comments. They will look, maybe they will laugh, they will roll their eyes and humor me.
You don't.
Every so often, I make a relevant comment. A supportive one. They are shocked, of course, but you never hear. Or am I lying? Have I said anything? You don't know, do you, and so you turn away and demean me. Can you tell when I'm drunk or pretending? No, you can't.
I...
I wish you could.
But as long as you ignore me, I will act out and demand your attention, good or bad. You may hate me for it, but at least you feel something. I've cracked that marble of yours to make you furious. I need you to look at me and care. Not about me, perhaps, or for me, but I need you to see me. For all my snide remarks, I need you. And you know it, when you admit I exist. How could you not? I'm no good at pretending otherwise. I give you my heart, and you pretend I don't have one. Just because I am no revolutionary,no royalist, choose no sides and do not believe in your pretty new world does not mean I am heartless. If I am, it is because I have lain it at your feet, and you have kicked it away. Perhaps it could have filled the matching void in your chest. Perhaps not; perhaps only France is big enough for that. I am part of her, you know. I walk her streets, I drink her wine, I sleep in her bed. I am another failing student with little money and little future in an unfair world. Do you see me? Or am I invisible? Am I an empty chair to you? An annoyance? An adversary? I cannot tell if you even see me when you rant and rave at me. Are you looking at me? Do you see me? Am I so low in your esteem it doesn't matter? Or is anger supposed to be your form of caring. I hardly think you see potential in me, do you? Do you, Apollo? Apollo? Enjolras?
...
"...No, don't worry. It wasn't important."
You don't.
Every so often, I make a relevant comment. A supportive one. They are shocked, of course, but you never hear. Or am I lying? Have I said anything? You don't know, do you, and so you turn away and demean me. Can you tell when I'm drunk or pretending? No, you can't.
I...
I wish you could.
But as long as you ignore me, I will act out and demand your attention, good or bad. You may hate me for it, but at least you feel something. I've cracked that marble of yours to make you furious. I need you to look at me and care. Not about me, perhaps, or for me, but I need you to see me. For all my snide remarks, I need you. And you know it, when you admit I exist. How could you not? I'm no good at pretending otherwise. I give you my heart, and you pretend I don't have one. Just because I am no revolutionary,no royalist, choose no sides and do not believe in your pretty new world does not mean I am heartless. If I am, it is because I have lain it at your feet, and you have kicked it away. Perhaps it could have filled the matching void in your chest. Perhaps not; perhaps only France is big enough for that. I am part of her, you know. I walk her streets, I drink her wine, I sleep in her bed. I am another failing student with little money and little future in an unfair world. Do you see me? Or am I invisible? Am I an empty chair to you? An annoyance? An adversary? I cannot tell if you even see me when you rant and rave at me. Are you looking at me? Do you see me? Am I so low in your esteem it doesn't matter? Or is anger supposed to be your form of caring. I hardly think you see potential in me, do you? Do you, Apollo? Apollo? Enjolras?
...
"...No, don't worry. It wasn't important."