Let Them Be Uncomfortable

You keep waiting for me to become easier to handle. That's interesting. Because I wasn't having trouble. You were. You liked me better when I filled every silence. When I explained the look on my face before you even asked. When I made everything comfortable so nobody had to wonder what I really meant. I stopped doing that. Notice how loud the room got. There it is. That little change in your voice. You heard no and started searching for the version where I eventually say yes. Keep looking. I'm not in there. Don't mistake quiet for hesitation. I'm listening. I'm deciding how much of this deserves an answer. You want a reaction. Fine. Here. No. Not louder. Not nicer. Not dressed up so you can pretend it means something else. No. You know what's different now? I don't rush when somebody gets uncomfortable. I let them be uncomfortable. You can stand there with all the things you thought would change my mind. Put them down. Your arms are getting tired. I haven't moved. And that's the part you still don't understand. I wasn't pushed here. I didn't finally snap. There wasn't some perfect moment when everything became clear. I just stopped giving away pieces of myself to make the room easier for everybody else. That's it. That's the whole damn thing.