I’m listening just so I can hear the echo of myself from the lips of a stranger uttering the cry of help I’ve been wanting to scream out. I am like the others. Pretending to listen and waiting for my turn to speak. Do I want to listen or do I want to be heard? I guess I want both.
I lend my ears hoping to hear stories different from mine. But we’re all the same.
Same feelings in different faces.