Don’t Tell Me …

Don’t tell me to calm down,  because that’s precisely what I’m not able to do. Do not push me more towards this wall which does not let me see further. And  don’t tell me to stop being sad either,  because I find it more or less pleasant.

In fact, I can not find the support on which to put my elbow to win the showdown. So, it is not a question of will or force. I really don’t wanna be like this, feel like this.

Don’t punish my oversights either. Indeed, you did not want to leave me the night light or the door ajar. You’re not helping me by doing this. I know it’s your first instinct but you’re not helping me. Your punishment is insane because it only increases my anxiety,  my insecurity. It doesn’t make me any less head in the air.

What I said when I was thinking about something else

Don’t point your finger at the same goal I aspire to, either, because my problem isn’t talking about fate. On the other hand, it is rather to find the way, the way to reach the place of which we are both thinking.

Thus, the anxiety, far from calming down when you tell me to push it away, is regulated inside me. My anxiety, let’s say stubborn and stubborn, also feeds on the helplessness that you add with your words. I feel honesty. I ask you not to get angry so that this does not become a hurtful franchise.

Don’t tell me… what I have already told you because you put me down even more in the face of this state, which at the moment I can’t control. Also, don’t ask me to breathe underwater. It’s about going to the surface, finding the rift through which the light passes and widening the hole. Let’s join forces instead of sitting down to calibrate mine.

In addition, if you listen to me, we can begin to  speak a language to understand each other, destroying the Tower of Babel to build the one of intimacy. Good, more than a tower, a bridge which one can approach you the circumstances and the obstacles which seem gigantic to me. Huge, even if this objective viewer is unable to see more than a line that even the most clumsy would not stumble upon.

Don’t tell me, don’t help me, if you don’t want to, if you can’t. Don’t trivialize my problems to get over them more quickly. If you’re focused on yours, I understand. In this case, I ask you not to disguise courtesy visits from those afternoons that are remembered because they start in despair and they end in hope. Silence is not synonymous with haste, because time is the least important thing.

Don’t tell me, don’t ask me how I’m doing by message. I will lie to you with joy, I will allow you to move on to the next one. You can go cook, watch the episode of your favorite show while you clean the kitchen. You can arrive on time for your next appointment.

Don’t tell me … empty words

Don’t tell me… when you have nothing to say. I won’t get angry if we isolate ourselves from the wind,  the noise of construction, mixed with that of children and birds which shorten the first afternoons of autumn or lengthen those of spring. In reality, with do not tell me, I want to tell you to share with me what you want but without flying beyond the line of the horizon that cuts through the present.

So you will help me. I prefer to be with you for a moment when the communication is open rather than ten times staring into space. On the other hand, I suggest that we repeat the moment when we were lying down and when we were looking at the sky. We thought it was a kind of blanket of a very dark blue in which a rascal would have made holes through which the light passes. (Writing…). Hush, don’t tell me, because you told me little, if anything at all (then, when nothingness wasn’t scary).