I scream and scream and scream, “Don’t lie.” Why does he lie?
It confuses, baffles. I can’t even explain my bursting, rising, heated garble of emotion that can only be put into the single verbalized word, “Why?”
Let us speak plainly, openly, the efficient and progressive way to move things along. If you don’t speak we are stuck. I wade in the water while you trudge through the mud. Heads above it we can speak, but whether you like it or not I can see plainly where you are, what you choose to immerse yourself in. Why? Why do that to yourself? Is it easy? Doesn’t look like it. Do you tell yourself it is easy, making false truth?
I care for the creature lying in the mud. But I know not how to pull it out or if it even wants assistance. So I ask the creature, “Speak, friend. May I help you?” The creature says,
"Nay, but stay a while. Talk to me."
So we pass sentiments, build empathy, create something between us finally, and yet the creature is still in the mud.
"Why won’t you let me help you? What is the point of enjoying my speech if you shall remain in this dirt? How am I to be a faithful friend if all that is to come is your murky grave?"
I care for the creature lying in the mud. He is stuck. I want to help. I speak fathoms and he speaks monosyllabically. We are friends, comrades. Why is he still stuck?