the agreement

do you get frustrated at me when my hands shake at the diner or i'm scared to buy my own ticket?

my brain is filled with memories i wish i could grab a pencil and correct it, underlines and scratching out the parts that made your experience worse because of me. maybe you'd be happier if you got to experience things without the baggage of knowing someone like me.

i spend most of our time together trying to analyze the tone of your voice when we talk - the additional count of sighs and maybe abruptness of the words you're saying over and over. sentences become short phrases with frustration you've probably stopped noticing you show.

i imagine what this feels like to you like fulfilling your dreams of going to the happiest place on earth with the most annoying kid you know. you're excited to go on space mountain while i'm staring at clocks around the park wondering when we'd get home because i worry about heat stroke or the thought of not being fun.

there's silence on the car rides home but i never think it's because of the music on the radio. i imagine the words i know you've always wanted to say as you grip the wheel out of anger.

you'll ask how it was for me knowing i'll always say it was most fun i've had in a while. we both know that's not the true answer but neither of us will correct each other on it. i can hear it in your sighs and tone when you ask that question.

something you'll never know is that it's just as exhausting to be me as it is to be around me. we both are performing the same act for each other and neither of us has figured out how to stop.

it's an agreement we'll never speak about. your nails dig into your skin reminding yourself how to talk to me each time. there will be more sighs you'll forget to suppress.

sometimes i hope i can fix this for you in different ways - maybe if i keep my hands in my pockets you won't ask why they're shaking. maybe if i don't talk much you won't hear my stutter. maybe if i kept myself to a corner of a party you wouldn't go looking for me.