Would you like to know what bugs me the most? Being interrupted, constantly.
Imagine being surrounded by the people you love, every day when you get home.
Imagine being at school or work all day long and the only thing you're looking forward too is telling everyone about your day.
Imagine walking through the door, being greeted by your loved ones and sitting in your favorite spot on the couch.
You begin to tell them about your day, but you're interrupted because your brother had found three frogs outside today.
You're interrupted because your sister and her friends are having boy drama.
You're interrupted because your mom has to tell you what you forgot to do, or what you need to get done, and about an hour of lecturing has to be had.
You're sitting in your favorite spot on the couch and you're wondering why no one cares about your day, or your thoughts. No one seems to notice that you rarely say a word anymore, and when you do, it's brief and blunt. Short, sweet, and to the point. That is what most conversations seem to consist of.
You don't get excited to tell people about things going on in your life, because it isn't like they ever seemed to care. You used to be a happy, bubbly person, that would get excited to tell someone about their great day at the beach, or the articles they're going to start writing.
Now you've turned into someone that, when given the chance to speak your mind, are able to say what you need too in less than two minutes Because you never know how much time you have before someone feels the need to cut you off.
You're honestly amazed that anyone knows who you are, considering you can never get out two words about yourself. No one knows what goes on in your head. The only things people know are what you're able to say and what you post on social media or write about in articles. They don't know all the thoughts you have, all of the words gone unsaid because the conversation changed so fast or what you were saying wasn't interesting enough for the other person or people.
When people start to notice that you're silent, they'll say something along the lines of, "Are you okay? You seem sad." Yet, instead of telling them what's actually wrong, you just say that you're tired, or you were drifting off into space, and that's the only interaction you really end up having.
Being interrupted is one of the most annoying things on the planet. You just want to get out your words. A sentence. A small story, a memory, honestly anything at this point. Whenever you try to speak it's like a game of who can talk the loudest over you first. As if your voice is so annoying or your input is simply not wanted.
It's constantly happening, and over time you become the observer of the group. You become the one that can give accurate advice (not that anyone would listen) on what to do because you're the only one that isn't involved and are able to see both sides of the story. So you sit there and you wonder, you wonder what would happen if you could just tell them what their problem is. But you can't, and you don't, so you just think. Thinking is all you do, you feel as if your brain is swelling as if it's overfilling with thoughts and words left unsaid.
Constantly being interrupted is not the ideal way to go about life. Not being able to stand up for yourself about being interrupted is just embarrassing for you, and the most irritating thing. When you're always interrupted, it starts to get on your nerves when everyone around you can talk about whatever they want for as long as they want.
These people never realize that you're probably the best listener they could ever know. They can tell you secrets, their most personal secrets, because it's not like you're going to tell anyone. More-so because you can't tell anyone.
And no matter how many times it's happened, you still have hope that one day you'll be able to have a conversation with someone that cares about what you're saying. You will be able to talk about what you want, for as long as you want.
That's the day you keep hoping for, no matter how silly it may seem to others.