afternoon dialogue

It is funny to know that this afternoon the dialogue will be created by me and for me in the span of just a few minutes. I do not write to talk directly to others. I write to talk directly to myself and indirectly to anyone who is brave enough to dive into my prose. I have woes just like anyone, but to me, of course, they are the most devastating and difficult mountains to climb. But others might, and have, scoffed at my tiny issues. Does that bother you? Me? No. Not really. The brain understands what the heart is too childlike to face. Talk to myself? Every day. Listen to what I am saying? Not so much. If it were a true dialogue, there would be not only taking, but giving as well, and between me, myself and me, we really don't want to hear the truth. Not really. But the bright spot, on this cloudy afternoon in sweltering summer, is that no one else has to listen to the cries of my heart. I am in charge, and I would charge if I could, for a glimpse of the wonderland inside. This time, it's free.