“Oh my goodness. What is wrong with you? Why are you all like that?”
“Oh I don’t know!”
“You don’t?”
“I do!”
“I don’t understand. Please tell me what is all the matter with you.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t understand what all is the matter with me.”
“Try to tell me. I care about you. Oh my goodness, what is wrong?”
“I wish I could sing!” I sob. “I wish I could sing better than any one in the whole world and everyone wouldn’t have to hear the words just hear how I was singing!”
“Why? What you do – it is noteworthy. Is this what is the matter?”
“Oh no. That’s not it. Because I cannot sing.” I begin to shake. “I wish I could draw anything in the whole world! I wish that I drew what people couldn’t see and when people looked at it they would know even if they had never laid eyes on it before!”
“But you don’t draw – you said so yourself.”
“Nor do I sing!”
“Is that all that is wrong?”
“No!”
“What is, then? My! What is the matter?”
“Everything!” I am sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. “I wish I could write! Oh how I wish I could write like people can sing and how people can draw!”
“Oh my, I’m afraid I do not understand you.”
“No one ever does! Oh why couldn’t I just sing? People feel that. Why couldn’t I just draw? People see that.”
“Earlier you said you wished you could write. Is that what is the matter?”
“Oh my, I have already written it down!”
“You what? You wrote it down? What did you write down?”
I couldn’t say anything. I kept sobbing and shaking. I could look no where except for down.
“Oh my, please tell me what is the matter!”
“I have! I already have!”
“I didn’t hear you.”
I am sobbing.
“I didn’t see anything.”
I am shaking.
“Oh my goodness! What is wrong with you? Why are you like this?”
“Oh I don’t know!”
“You don’t?”
“I do!”
“I don’t understand. Please tell me what is all the matter with you.”
“But that’s just it. I don’t understand what all is the matter with me.”
“Try to tell me. I care about you. Oh my goodness, what is wrong?”
“I wish I could sing!” I sob. “I wish I could sing better than any one in the whole world and everyone wouldn’t have to hear the words just hear how I was singing!”
“Why? What you do – it is noteworthy. Is this what is the matter?”
“Oh no. That’s not it. Because I cannot sing.” I begin to shake. “I wish I could draw anything in the whole world! I wish that I drew what people couldn’t see and when people looked at it they would know even if they had never laid eyes on it before!”
“But you don’t draw – you said so yourself.”
“Nor do I sing!”
“Is that all that is wrong?”
“No!”
“What is, then? My! What is the matter?”
“Everything!” I am sobbing and shaking uncontrollably. “I wish I could write! Oh how I wish I could write like people can sing and how people can draw!”
“Oh my, I’m afraid I do not understand you.”
“No one ever does! Oh why couldn’t I just sing? People feel that. Why couldn’t I just draw? People see that.”
“Earlier you said you wished you could write. Is that what is the matter?”
“Oh my, I have already written it down!”
“You what? You wrote it down? What did you write down?”
I couldn’t say anything. I kept sobbing and shaking. I could look no where except for down.
“Oh my, please tell me what is the matter!”
“I have! I already have!”
“I didn’t hear you.”
I am sobbing.
“I didn’t see anything.”
I am shaking.
“Oh my goodness! What is wrong with you? Why are you like this?”

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