My Interior Dialogue (Oftentimes)

“…Ok, let me stress it again: This is a partnership.”
“Doesn’t feel like one.”
“Well it is. It always has been.”
“You don’t seem to care.”
“About what?”
“My feelings. My dreams. My hopes. None of those things.”
“Listen, I do care. But I want to be realistic, do you see that?”
“More like ‘controlling.'”
“Now see, that is exactly what I’ve been trying to show you.”
“That you’re controlling?”
“No. Not at all. I’ve been trying to show you how you take all my best efforts to help you, to help us, as attempts to belittle, intimidate or control you.”
“That’s how it feels to–”
“But that’s not reality!”
“Oh. I see. So now I’m out-of-touch!”
“I never said that!”
“You thought it.”
“No. I was thinking something else”
“Listen. I don’t know if you would understand.”
“You think I’m stupid.”
“Yes, you do.”
“No, I don’t.”
“What then?”
“If you only knew how much I care.”
“If you would only show it.”
“I try, but you misunderstand me over and over again.”
“Ok. What about the time that I had that dream to learn to play an instrument? I was so excited. Finally, an avenue to express myself creatively. And what did you do to help? Remind me of budgeting for lessons, start listing all the things I would need, start telling me about managing my time so I wouldn’t be distracted by my ‘new hobby’ (as you called it). Hobby. That’s all it was to you. It was to be my life. How did I misunderstand that?”
“I was trying to help.”
“You were trying to throw ice water on my tiny ember of passion. You succeeded. Thank you…dream-killer.”
“I wanted you to succeed. I was trying to give you the best shot at making it happen.”
“But you do that all the time–”
“Not all the time.”
“Most of the time you do. Anything I really want, any time I have a deep desire, at any point where I’m willing to throw my all into something…you just have to speak up and ruin it. You spoil all my fun.”
“I don’t try to do that; I am just trying to help you plan.”
“Maybe sometimes I just need you to believe in me. Maybe I don’t need you to fix or plan or talk to me. You just talk, talk, talk. It’s overwhelming sometimes. What can’t you just smile, have some faith in me and love me?”
“I do love you–”
“Butterflies. Do you get butterflies? I mean, about me?”
“Listen, you know I care–”
“You…don’t…get butterflies?”
“Not like you do. Listen, they’re more…um…intellectual butterflies. Like whatever kind of butterfly maybe a bookworm would turn into, if they turned into butterflies, which they don’t, but just metaphorically speaking–”
“So I have…dumb butterflies.”
“What are you talking about?”
“‘More intellectual butterflies.’ Your words.”
“That’s not what I meant.”
“What you said.”
“You missed the point.”
“So it’s my fault you can’t communicate?”
“You don’t even like me.”
“Yes, I do.”
“Yes…And I’m not leaving, no matter what. So don’t entertain that for a moment…I can anticipate what you were feeling.”
“Have you thought of leaving?”
“No, but I have thought of how hard it is for us to get along.”
“Ever felt like leaving?”
“Not once.”
“I know you have.”
“Yeah. On and off. Sometimes I feel like you hate me. That’s when I want to run away.”
“I know. And sometimes I think you will never understand me…but I do care about you. How could I not care? You’re mine. Besides, we couldn’t make it without the other, even if we tried.”
“Hey, don’t be glum. We have to learn to trust each other, even if you’re all about living in the moment while I’m trying to think ahead for us. When we agree, we’re an awesome team.”
“I just want us to get along.”
“Well Heart, that’s going to take work, on both our parts.”
“I know Brain, I know.”

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