A Feeling I Can’t Name

Don’t you ever feel like something is wrong, but you don’t even know what it is? You just know something is there, but it has no name. And when someone asks “what’s wrong?”, you don’t know what to say, so you end up saying “nothing”… but that “nothing” means everything. It means something is wrong, and you feel bad for not understanding it, for not being able to explain it, even if you want to. And what hurts the most is not being used to someone actually caring about you. You don’t know anymore if they’re asking because they care or just to be polite. Because before, when I tried to talk, I would start explaining what I felt… and they would get distracted, walk away, and I would end up talking to a wall, like my problems were being told to nothing. And that’s where my “nothing” was born. That “nothing” people don’t believe in, but it holds everything I was never heard saying. Because that “nothing” wasn’t there from the start… it appeared when no one was there. And now that someone actually wants to know, I feel a transparent wall inside me that won’t let me speak. And if I manage to say something, I remember everything that was ignored before… and I wonder why it would matter now.