No room for self pity in the big city,
People don’t care, ask for help
Don’t you dare
Homeless with signs
No emotions from passersby
Did it themselves they say
Give them money, no way
Dirty streets, putrid smells
Sewers, depths of hell
Self defense, bitch face
Out alone, carry mace
Traffic for days,
Everyone going different ways
Chill, pop a pill
Cheating husbands, perfect wives
Faking their happy lives
I noticed you
You were married, I knew
You didn’t notice me
I was safe because we couldn’t be
Your charm swept me off my feet
Downloaded snapchat for me, thought it was sweet
My entertainment on the boring nights
There was trouble in your paradise, constant fights
Said you guys were separated
Starting hooking up with me but it was complicated
Making promises you couldn’t keep
Up all night, can’t sleep
Wondering, why did you come after me?
When you knew we could never be
I recently read this quote and it spoke to me. For so long, I have been afraid. Afraid of big things, small things, silly things, serious things, EVERTHING. I feared commitment, making decisions, uncomfortable social situations, the future, slicing my finger while peeling a potato, getting bitten by a spider that’s living in the shoes I haven’t put on in three weeks. You name it, I probably feared at one point and time. But if there is anything at all that I have learned in this past year, it’s that you can’t let your fear decide your fate. It’s perfectly normal to be afraid but you can’t let fear keep you from living your life. So take that trip out of the country, give your number to that cute boy that sits in the third row of your 9 am general psychology class, and wear those shoes you haven’t touched in three weeks even if it might house a frighteningly large spider. Because I learned that what I truly fear the most is regret, it’s all the what ifs? Embrace the journey, the mistakes and misfortunes included because without them there would be no way to distinguish the good times and the truly brilliant moments in your life.
The worst question you can ever ask me is.. “what’s wrong?”. I despise this question because in this moment as those words are uttered from your lips, it rings true in my ears that something is wrong. A lot of somethings are wrong and I spent all morning convincing myself to get out of bed, trying to forget about all of these troubles that you brought rushing back with one stupid question. I was temporarily happy, I had forgotten about the class I’m failing, I had just managed to put the boy who broke my heart out of my mind, I wasn’t dwelling on the fact that I hate my body or that I got written up at work last week. I know you think you’re helping, being a concerned citizen or friend or what have you, but you’re not. I don’t need you to tell me I look upset, I don’t need you to remind me of my ever-troubling problems. I don’t want to talk about them, believe me. I haven’t been walking around all day looking sad, waiting for someone to ask me that dreaded question, so I can spill my whole life story, have a good cry and move on with my life. I don’t want to talk about my problems. It’s not how I work, I bottle things up and pretend they don’t exist, walk around every day with a smile on my face, until it takes such as toll that you can read it like an open book, but even once you notice or catch a glimmer of my true self, the sadness that burdens my soul, I won’t open up. I’ll say I’m tired, busy, stressed, any lame excuse to get you to bugger off and stop questioning me. At the end of the day, if I had seriously responded to your question, what would you have done about it? Probably never asked me again for one. You certainly can’t fix my problems and I’m not asking you to. There’s nothing that you can do to change any aspect of my life or the way I’m feeling. You don’t have the answers. You can’t cure my heartache or change my attitude. My questions will just become your questions and you’ll start to wonder, start opening doors in your mind that otherwise would have went unopened, start questioning your happiness. Then, instead of one broken soul, there will be two and the world certainly doesn’t need that.
This might sound absolutely absurd to most people.. but I am terrified of freedom. The freedom to choose my fate, my career, my friends, my boyfriend, my car, my breakfast, my outfit.. my life. That’s a lot of pressure because what if I screw up? What if I make a horribly bad decision? There are no take-backs in life. My ENTIRE life I have been doing what I either was told to do or what I thought I was supposed to do. I played sports because my dad played sports and that’s what he would have wanted, right? I played the flute because my mom played the flute and that’s what she would have wanted, right? I got good grades and joined lots of clubs to make my parents proud and to get into a good college because that’s what they wanted, right? I went to college because that was my only option, right? I am a double major in Pre-Med and Spanish because I need to get a good job and pay off all my debt, right? Not being happy is a small price to pay for food on the table and a roof over your head, right? I never really gave any thought to what I really wanted, probably because I never really knew what I wanted. There’s two people, the me that I want to be and the me that I should be, unfortunately they are entirely different people.
So, what do I do? Who do I become? Who am I?
Now, I sit and stare at my phone for hours on end.. hoping you’ll text me and say “I love you and I’m sorry, let’s get back together”. I know it’s pitiful, I know I am better than this, I know a lot of things but that’s the problem with love, it’s not some long thought process that results in an ethically suitable decision to either be in it or not. It’s felt, by the heart, and for that matter, every inch of your body. When you said you thought we should part ways, I was okay with it at first but I guess that was only because it didn’t feel real to me. You were all I had known for almost two years and the thought of my life without you was.. frankly, unthinkable but not in some super obsessive, I NEED YOU, scary freshman year, first boyfriend, crush kinda way, in the literal can’t imagine my life without you kind of way because I hadn’t lived it without you for longer than what I could now remember. It hit me slow at first then all at once. I would wake up and want to text you but realize I couldn’t. I would get great news or horrible news or any news and want to tell you.. but couldn’t. I would get off work and want to cuddle and relax with you.. but couldn’t. It took me to weeks to remove the cute heart emojis that had been what seemed like permanently settled next your name in phone. That’s when it really hit me. We weren’t anything anymore. You were just a name in my phone.. no special connotation.. no significance.. just a name and a number.
LIES.. LIES.. LIES.. you’re not busy. I call bullshit. As a female, I know, I’m busy is code for I don’t like you enough to turn off the TV, put down the potato chips, and come to the door to let in so we can chill. We use the “I’m busy” excuse all the time, so fellows don’t even try to pull that shit on us. We fucking created that phrase. “I’m too busy” cause you’re not hot enough, you’re not funny, you can’t benefit me, you’re dumb, you’re going nowhere, and ultimately I found someone else to fulfill all the time I don’t have. It does not matter how busy you actually are or more likely how busy you actually aren’t, if you like someone you will make some damn time for them. A girl texts you that likes you and asks “why don’t I everrrr see youuu?” and you be like “pshh.. sorry gurl I’m too busy”, that’s some BULLSHIT cause I know if your crush hit you up right now and was like “let’s chill”, you would be fully dressed and out the door before the text that said “HELL YEAH GIRL” finished sending! Be straight up.. if you don’t want to see someone just be like “bitch I don’t want to see you” .. end of story.