Waking Feels the Same

"Clearer, please!", I begged of you. Out of frustration, lack of patience, or both, you caved. 
Six something years I've been trying to even the score, level the playing field, reach for the ball in your court. Why do you get to haunt me? Why do you get to speak to me, in all things, especially my dreams? It's my turn, I want a chance, I know what to do.

And when I finally understood what you were saying, you said simply, "I cannot talk to you."