Reprise; To Being Understood

The idea that when a person dies you're allowed to let them have it--you're allowed to tell them all the things you never told them in life. And then if you've got breath enough, you can tell them you love them. Doing that in life would never work; it was just create rifts. Because after all the hurt, love never heals anything. I envy them that: that they write the way they feel. Am I really so different from anyone else on this earth? If only I could say the things I think, the way I really feel. To every person But I'm twenty-two now, and old enough to realize what should not be said, what should not be voiced. But as time passes I feel rifts growing inside of me, as they all stack up against me: the things I never say.

I'd tell you that you've paired me up with someone irresponsible--again.

I'd tell you that old age shouldn't mean you've forgotten what it means to be human.

I'd tell you I hate you passionately and love you dearly at the same time.

I'd tell you I'm afraid of my life turning out your way.

I'd tell you that you're a hypocrite.

I'd tell you that you're beautiful.

I'd tell you that I can see right through you, even when you think you're hiding.

I'd tell you that you hurt me more often than anyone--the person I love best.

I'd tell you that I'm afraid, but I think I can make this work.

I'd tell you I'm afraid of hurting you.

I'd tell you about the value of tact.

I'd tell you to give me a chance.

I'd tell you that you have no right to speak to me the way you do.

I'd tell you that you simply do not matter to me.

I'd tell you the things you think matter, really don't.

I'd tell you there are things I want, and then there are things I need, and you just don't understand the difference.

I'd tell you that I need to know you're real.

I'd tell you I still have a temper.

I'd tell you that you made me feel more insecure than I've ever felt.

I'd tell you that your impatience infuriates me.

I'd tell you that all I need is for you to tell me I'm fine just the way I am, the way you used to.

I'd tell you thank you for holding on to me.

I'd tell you to respect me.

I'd tell you that I'm human.

I'd tell you I admire you.

I'd tell you that I shouldn't have to convince myself I matter.

I'd tell you that nothing scares me more than thinking, 'Maybe, I don't.'

I'd tell you to take out the trash.

I'd tell you I'm afraid of doing this alone.

I'd tell you to put your phone on silent.

I'd tell you not to sing.

I'd tell you that you're the best man I've met.

I'd tell you that you are so very wrong.

I'd tell you to tell me everything and anything and just to speak for hours and hours and let me listen.

I'd tell you to trace my hand on a piece of paper.

I'd tell you, I wish you'd done it too.

I'd tell you that all I want is an apology.

I'd tell you that you never did anything wrong, it was just timing.

I'd tell you that you should have taken my side, because I would have taken yours.

I'd tell you that you should have treated her better.

I'd tell you to stop smoking.

I'd tell you that you waited too long, and missed your chance.

I'd tell you frustration is still my most common emotion.

I'd tell you not to pressure me to be like you.

I'd tell you to care.

I'd tell you that you made my life unbearable.

I'd tell you you're the best friend I've ever had.

I'd tell you if I could have sat out under the stars with you on your lawn all night I would have chosen an eternity of it, just to have you the way I remember you.

I'd tell you I'm letting you go.

I'd tell you . . . I'm so sorry.

I'd tell you I wish I was different.

I'd tell you that you were unfair.

I'd tell you, 'So was I.'

I'd tell you to listen to each other.

I'd tell you to let it go.

I'd tell you that you could have been more adult about it.

I'd tell you that you're forgiven.

I'd tell you that even when I'm with you, I'm so very alone.

I'd tell you I think you're an idiot.

I'd tell you that I rarely think that of anyone.

I'd tell you that you take yourself too seriously.

I'd tell you that you're worth every thing you think you've lost.

I'd tell you you're right.

I'd tell you that you're not as smart as you think you are.

I'd tell you that I really mean nothing at all in the grand scheme of things, but you--you mean the world.

I'd tell you that you're missing someone who is right in front of you; that she's what you need, that you're not looking.

I'd tell you I wasn't right for you; maybe I'm not right for anyone.

I'd tell you that you are everything; that I look to you in all things; that I belong to you more than I belong to anyone else.

I'd tell you that I'm blind, and I'm happy you have what you need.

I'd tell you thank you.

. . .

I'd tell you. I'd tell you. I'd tell you.

I'd tell you the truth.

I'd tell you I love, love, love, love, love you.