misunderstandings and vomit

I feel profoundly misunderstood. I'm prone to this emotion. Like I'm an alien for dissection. A frog maybe, something for people to take apart and look at so that they understand themselves better.

And the anger. Is it only justified if I stuff it in? Like he does and he does and he does. If I raise my voice I am dismissable; of course. Women are excitable. I am excitable. That means you shouldn't listen to me when I have the words. That means you shouldn't look in my eyes. That means you shouldn't believe I put every careful thought into what I say when I think something you've said is fucked up. That means I don't have compassion for you.

I have so much compassion, it spills over and burns into anger spots on the floor. it bleeds from me. I vomit compassion. I burst with it when I'm home alone and finally cry and cry and cry.

and when I try to explain myself, I see these looks on peoples' faces, like I'm talking about penis infections or an ugly rash or something so gross you just don't want to think about it. They say things like "I think you're just taking this too hard" and I say "you're probably right" because if I get mad then I'm a bitch again. and then no one will listen again. and I'm at best a frog on the table again.

I'm sick of editing every god. damn. thing. I fucking say for people.

I believe in compassion and communication. I try my very best to be kind, to be understanding; to phrase things in a way people will maybe get, to be gentle. To take everyone's situation-- as far as I can understand it-- into account. To be full of love and honesty as I am and have always been at my core.

but sometimes
it just falls flat on its face.

I am a human being just like you and I deserve respect too
and I'm not wrong about the way I feel about you

I can't think right. it feels like there's an immense pressure on me all the time. the weight of a full grown man on a child. my muscles start to cramp, like a charlie horse, rip rip rip. I can't sleep. everything smells like shit, literally, like feces. the air is too thick to breathe. or is it the weight on my chest? I can't breathe but I'm trying not to freak out. I know I COULD breathe if I really wanted to. so this is my fault? no no no shh. okay. I can't get a grip on things. I can't think right.