I Can't Hear You

I can’t hear you. I’m sorry because I know how inconvenient this is for you.  I see your eyes roll when I say what? Or, Pardon me, can you repeat that please? I feel your annoyance at my inability to hear through walls or over loud music.

Usually by the third time I say I can’t hear you, I am annoyed too. I’m annoyed because though I am the one that is deaf, you are the one that does not listen. Your diction is so poor I don’t even know what language you are speaking. But it doesn’t matter because I can’t hear you.

I can read your lips if you move them. If you take the food or whatever out of your mouth or control your lazy tongue and wrap your lips around your words I can usually make out what you’re saying. Not if you are talking to the floor, to the sky, your computer, your book.

 I’m sorry I can’t hear you.

 I know how inconvenient this must be for you. My bionic ears merely allow me to hear what is clear and in front of me. I can’t hear you running up behind me so I sometimes scream with fear when you fly past me. I’m sorry that scares you.

If I were blind, would you walk up to me with pretty pictures and say look at this? Maybe you would. It seems like your style.

I’m sorry you have to raise your voice a little and use proper diction when you are speaking to me. It must make your life so difficult- I can’t imagine.