I Think He UnderstandsSometimes I feel like no one is listening. That I could stand in a crowd filled with silent people, start to scream, and no one would hear me.
Sometimes I think no one cares. So what if I slit my wrists, so what if I swallow a bottle of sleeping pills, no one would care.
Sometimes I believe that no one looks. I could dance on a stage, in front of everyone in the world, and no one would see.
Then there are times where I can think that someone cares. When he tells me that I am beautiful, I think he cares. When he says he is happy that I am alive, I know he cares.
There are times when I know someone is listening. When he responds to my message seconds after reading it, when he answers my questions, I know. When he tells me what I had said down to the letter over a week later, I know.
And I know he looks. He is always happy to see my face. I believe that he sees through every shield I have ever put up, every defense against getting too close. I believe he can see me for what I am, and this makes me happy.
And sometimes I think that I am ugly.
He tells me that I am beautiful. He sees more than I do, he must be right.