kudzuvines | I could be direct, but why bother

So I'll just sit here, right, and wish that you'd pay attention to me. I mean, sure. You've got a lot on your plate. You're busy a lot with work, you're confused about your social life, and I'm not exactly the most accessible person ever. It's hard to call me, or come over to my room and find me. I kinda, y'know, go out and stuff. I live. But I know you don't go out, and I wish you'd demand more of me. Or let me know I matter in the slightest and I'm not just this annoying dead corpse, bumping up every now and then against your raft in the ocean of your life.

I don't really know you now, do I. Because I'm certainly not hearing anything from you. No, I have to get a warped, distorted, dark version of you from everyone else. And I know they're wrong, because you're not really like that, but they don't have high opinions of you and they're disgusted and...

But that doesn't excuse you. What am I to you, anyway? I think I exist in an alternate dimension for you or something. There's every day life, and then there's talking to me when it's convenient. It's like you don't connect me to reality.

But you're in my reality. I see you every day, but you don't see me. At least, I think you don't. I only come into the world when I initiate contact. But for me, you're still there even when you're not.

Be nice to me. Show me that I matter. Be thoughtful for a second, come out of your own consuming world, and remember that there are people out there who care about you, who want to be cared about by you, and who want to know that you care.