Screaming Under Water

It feels like screaming underwater. Like I opened my chest, and handed you my lungs. You told me they weren't real. Like I am sitting in a room with the windows shut. Everyone smiling, nodding, laughing, while I am on fire, but nobody smells the smoke. I say what I think, and it echoes back distorted. It is like I spoke in a language that no one bothered to learn. I tried to explain. Sometimes they smile politely like I am a todler holding a broken stick and calling it art. Like I am being dramatic. Like I just need to calm down. It is not about being loud. It is not about being right. It is about being seen. It is about knowing that someone, just one person, gets it. When no one agrees, it is not just disagreement. It is isolation. It is them building a fence between us. Pretending I am choosing to stand on the other side. I did not choose this. I am just here. Holding my truth in both hands like it is fragile, and ugly, and honest. Watching everyone pretend it does not matter.