smile

Why can't you hear me? I feel like I'm screaming. My lungs hurt. As if lungs have feelings. Pain sensors. Nerve endings. My eardrums are quivering. Every flutter amplified one million percent. Like when you hold a seashell up to your ear and you can hear the ocean crash from a hundred miles away. Or something like that. Even my pen is craving your attention. My obnoxious, in-your-face, Barbie doll pink pen is screaming "Notice Me!" Could have been purple gel or blue ball point, running out of ink. Not that the choice matters, in print everything is black and white. Every word, carefully chosen with no grey area. Don't attach your agenda or personal interpretation to these words, they don't mean any more than swirling wrist movements or keystrokes. Everything broken down to ones and zeroes. Eventually something as dull and ordinary as black characters painted on white canvas with nothing to say that hasn't been said before will catch someone's wandering eye. But who knows, you may never notice the curve of the letters that form the word "smile". And by the time you do, I may not want you to anymore.