your complaints

In my car we sit becuase we have no where else to go. Silently I stare at the steering wheel, feeling like an ice sculpture. Unable to move, think, speak, feel, just listen. Listen to your endless stream of ridiculing commentary. The clever jabs and obvious swipes. You're oblivious to my lack of response, the fact that the music has stopped ten minutes ago. I know I should change it, play something to distract me from the gnawing feeling inside of me. The feeling that something is trying to swallow me whole. Some demon that feels sorry for me and is trying to put me out of my misery. But not without hurting me first, no one would be that kind. There is no grace that could save me from my turmoil, from your hardhitting complaints. "Do you think before you speak? Sometimes you sound so stupid. I hate stupid people." I hate that no matter how many ways i arrange myself, i will never be the solution you are looking for. I hate that when I am gone there will be nothing left in rememberance. I will not be great, I will not be remembered. Because you will forget me and even though the pain is becoming unbearable and i can feel myself slowly shattering, you are still all that matters. The only one that ever mattered.