Description: This is from a couple of months ago and it's about just wanting somebody so much, and being afraid to say anything. I was literally three feet from the girl I was writing about as I wrote this, really just reinforcing that idea of hiding in plain sight.
I hide behind a wall of glass
Hoping that you won't see my fear
Yet praying that you see what is hidden
In my dreaming I can approach you
Yet even then I cannot make confession
So I hint and hope, daring not do more
In a heart shaped box I keep my emotions
Inside a chest of glass lie my affections
I hide this from you with a thin veil
In the hope that you may uncover it
If ever you did discover, I would pretend
Because I am afraid, I would run
To false security behind a wall of glass
For some reason, (barring the description - I often read the poem first before the description) I didn't see fear here so much as a certain way of being. I could relate.
Being a person to whom it comes as second nature to anticipate the needs of others, I expect the same in return.
Communication when times are tough is not always easy, but the alternative is that you will go through life dissatisfied with how others relate to you.
If there's one lesson I've learned that could be summed up in a simple equation it would be this:
expectation = resentment.
You resent others and you don't know why. Until you figure out that all along, you've been expecting them to read your mind. To you, taking the most subtle of hints may be as natural as breathing. You search for ways to read people and usually find them. If you were to think about it, you would realize you consider this a matter of consideration.
You wonder why it seems sometimes like other people don't care; after all, noticing is caring, right? But each individual has a different way of showing they care, a different style of loving.
As far as the fear goes, it can be scary to have to say what you think or spell things out in black and white when that simply isn't your way. But if saying what you feel, if emptying your heart to someone causes them to run, they wouldn't have stayed anyway. Though I know this doesn't make it any easier.
A sad discourse of the damage fear can do to the timid of heart. But, even the violet needs more than its beautiful scent to impress the world. It has to poke its tiny shy bloom through the leaves to attract attention, and so do you. Good luck. Ted.
PS. Read my poem on fear.