figure (via This Year’s Love)
I wish I could say slow down.
I wish I could hurry and catch up.
I’ve lost the sense of closeness that existed years ago. It’s been gone for a while, but I feel it now more than ever. They move on, I stay rooted to the ground.
I can pray all I want but it doesn’t change. I’m standing still, they’re miles away by now.
That’s why I want to move away. To complete the distance between in a physical sense, to make it more lasting and final. To make it bearable.
It’s hard to feel so frustrated and left behind when I’m the one not moving with the rest. Even more difficult to grasp is that it isn’t intentional and that I’m the one who needs to change. But that’s like asking the moon not to shine or the sun to delay rising. Nothing can wait for me.
They don’t know what it’s like to be unwanted.
They had choices even if it wasn’t the one they wanted at the time—they still had a choice. I’ve never had a choice. I never got to choose to stay or go. It left. Left without a goodbye and I still stand here with my heart beating, tears in my eyes, wondering when it will finally be my turn.
And knowing that my turn will never come. I don’t get one.
But I still have to stand by and watch it happen for everyone else. Everyone else.
The weight of it suffocating. I can’t talk about it to anyone—no one understands. They’ve never felt this way, endlessly—they had respite or never felt it to begin with.
You, the ones that are wanted, can’t tell me it’ll get better. I just have to fix myself. I am not broken, there is nothing to fix. There is nothing to wait for.
What is so simple for everyone else is impossible for me. For many reasons. And I’m bitter about it. Angry. I clench my teeth and blink away the tears every single day. It creeps up on me when I realize I sat here for hours saying not a word. I can check my phone and see the last call I made or received was two or three days before.
It confuses me, bewilders me when someone says they have to say or do something just this way so as not to upset another person. They stifle themselves for no reason but it seems so impossible for them to see that it’s very simple: you do what you want, fuck what they think. You’re an adult, aren’t you?
But then I realized why they felt that way: things were expected of them, are expected of them still. Positive things.
I have only known either indifference or the expectation of negative outcomes so I gave up caring what other people said or thought of what I say or do.
I wonder what that feels like: to be wanted.
I have never known.
I never will.
And that is why I want to run away. Because you can’t understand how that feels. I don’t want to hear the excuses or the explanations or the encouragements.
I don’t even know what this means.
