a·side (noun, singular)
A remark or passage by a character in a play that is intended to be heard by the audience, but unheard by the other characters in the play.
Unheard by you. In time of lies telling the sometimes-horrible truth is a revolutionary act, and something about you makes me rather weak in the knees than rebellious. I might not be brave enough to let the words roll off my tongue, but more importantly, I have no intent to keep trying to make you understand something as alien as feelings. Because even if I do, you still wouldn’t hear me, not my mumblings nor my intentions, but a diluted version of my words and actions.
The universal truth is that there is no such thing as universal truth. We all carry our own luggage that blurs our vision. You will always see through your eyes, your past, your mistakes, your prejudice. You will see me through the curtain of fear, of everything that has happened in the past and everything laid ahead in the future: the unknown, and apparently – I am its embodiment.
One day maybe you will find this. That may be the day you will want to understand. Or the day you will want to remember the past. Or the day you realise you miss me. Or the day you stop for a moment to realise that the greatest stories are not those in which things are only spoken, but those in which it is acted upon, and you want to take lead.
I just wish that day comes while I am still not giving up on you.