Understanding

Oh, how we long to be understood. In this complicated and confusing world, this seems to be a plight worthy of Shakespeare, the poetic tragedy of each individual and their unique struggle to find a mind, akin to their own, someone who can hold them when they are upset. Who knows when to ask what’s wrong, and when to act as the shoulder to cry upon. Someone who is nice and not at all creepy, someone who can understand when we are just too sleepy. Someone who know how too kiss, but no one could do all of this. How would we be, if we had to be perfect, we know the pain of not knowing what is wrong, we would if we could fix all that is wrong, but we are only human, if we find what we are looking for, it couldn’t be us, we would run scared, we would not understand, “how could they know all of this?” it would not feel right. How could we ever be understood, when we do not understand, and when we are not willing to explain. How can we be expected to understand what we could not know? We feel when something is not right, but to know what to do with that feeling, even only on the odd occasion, is something utterly amazing.