Those who have ears to hear, let him hear

There's an ache in my side, a slight jab, a constant rub. My eyes sting. Everything is salty and sour. It's only Wednesday and I'm ready to retire and sleep away the days, unshaven and smelling like old onions. Maybe you've realized this, or maybe not. No one really hears. They watch. They listen for a long enough pause ... "is it my turn to talk". The great assumption is that one can be known without telling anyone the truth. Feelings hidden deep. (On the surface:) Weather's great. Reds lost again. I got a ticket. My stocks are doing well. Church was pretty good today. (While inside :) My father disapproves of everything I do. I fear being rejected and unloved. My worth is found in what I do - but I hate what I do. I don't know how to cry. My dad made me kiss his penis when I was 6. I hate God. I fart and burp and smell. It's there, in most of us. We're human, depraved and hurting each other constantly and refuse to see truth. We live unfulfilled shallow lives, buried in the delusion that things are made better by working, accumulating, exhausting ourselves in ourselves without really every being known or knowing. Empty. I cannot do that anymore and feel disconnected, because I refuse the mask. There is hope. I hope someone hears.