Don't Listen

Don't listen because what I'm giving a voice to is supposed to remain silent. Plug in your headphones and crank up the volume to tune me out with the million-dollar billboard hits, the deceitful voice of a singer-or-stripper whining up the woes of infidelity. I'm no Ani diFranco—who you wouldn't like anyway, because she's not mainstream and you can't dance to her music in the sweat-stained corners of your gymnasium—but my message is the same.

Don't listen because what I'm saying might shake your worldview. I've always thought you were one of the brightest crayons in the box, but that means little since you've never lost your fear of coloring outside of society's lines. Inside, I am watercolors spilling across the page, and truthfully, I don't want you to see what a muddled mess I've become. But unmistakable violets bloom through the pages of my sketchbook, weaving themselves into my words until I'm afraid the color of our conversations will bleed the realization into your brain before I get a chance to explain.

Don't listen because what I'm expressing is never featured in the advertisements for Friday night block-busters. My story doesn't translate well to the big screen. It lacks all the virtues of a successful cinematic experience: nonsensical comedy, easy-to-identify themes, and popular jingles all wrapped up in 120 minutes. No doubt the unexpected climax of my confession would make you choke on your butter-smothered popcorn. Besides, I have little desire to reach audiences everywhere—just you.

Don't listen because what I'm revealing could screw up your fairytale. I've never understood your faith in happily-ever-after and now you'll know exactly why I deplore Disney classics. My curse is to be different than the stereotypical princess you've come to expect, and no true love's kiss will cure it. As Briar Rose, you'd prefer to remain sleeping with your delusions of a dream world intact, but I'm determined to hack my way through the castle walls of your mind, thorns and dragons and fantasy plotline be damned. The clock chimes midnight in the land of make-believe, and maybe this time you'll wake up wake up wake up.

Don't listen because what I'm telling you now is the truth, and you will hate me for it…

…for who I am.