A tribute

I thought about writting something about you, writting something to you. But you'll never read it, so it's sort of useless. You never come here anyway. Why should I bother.
You've know idea what is happening.
It's like global warming: slow, imperceptible. You can't really see it. There are some signs, but if you don't pay attention, you won't see them.
Or maybe you just don't want to see them.
But as invisible as it may seem, it's here, and getting worst.
you've no idea of what is growing inside me, the dangerous volcano that slowly comes back to life.

I don't talk, I don't ask.
I don't make much noise.
I try to be as invisible, sweet and small as possible.

I tamed the fire inside long ago. I burnt myself and learnt to fear it.
But it never went extinguished.

I am bored of being kind. I'm tired of being mute, I'm tired of being easy-going and always available. I'm tired of being the one who cares.
I care. I love you and I care for you.

But I don't have time for that.
It's partly my fault for I keep you in the dark.
Shutting up is my way to defend myself.

If I don't tell you anything about me, you won't be able to hurt me.
By telling people you're not supposed to.
By forgetting and consequently being tactless.
Or just carelessly hurting me.

So I keep you in the dark.
I don't answer your questions anymore, but you're too busy to notice.
It's easy. I even started to lie.
But I feel the fire inside and it hurts.

Taking the time to be supportive, to cool down before talking, to always be nice and smilling is actually costy.
I don't have time for that. I don't have energy for that.

But why do I even write? You won't read.
Oh my dear, one day, this is going to go wrong.