I don’t know you.
I know your words. I know I look for them daily. I know the mixed feelings I have when I see something new.
And I don’t know what you’re writing about. I don’t understand the words you say, how you speak in circles and lose me. Leave me wondering. There’s something about the way you write.
I don’t understand it.
I feel the pressure of the skin on my forehead bunching together between my brows. The headache that’s been teasing me for days increases, so I try to relax. I re read your words, hoping to have catch at least a glimpse of something I must have missed before.
Don’t go. Please.
Hold on. Please.