you
Thursday. 9/1. September 1st.
I guess I figured
That I'd end up being
That Guy™
Who writes shitty poems
Instead of saying what I really want to say
I just never figured they'd be about you
You. God, you.
You think you're so Unloveable
Told me that you believed it
That you'd been told it by the people
Who were supposed to bring you up
Not tear you down
And you told me that because that's what friends do
They share stories and cry about their shitty lives.
"I'll never be loved," you say, "I'm Unloveable."
And I know you believe it, misspelling and all.
But I don't
How could I believe it?
I'm sitting here writing poetry about you
For Gods sake
You're the poet out of the two of us
Not me
What am I doing?
"I'm good enough to be Likeable, but not Loveable." You say
You are so unbelievably wrong
Hell, you play music
On the weekends
For fun.
You wait for me after every class we have together
I can't help but smile when I see you
Leaning against the wall
Looking for me.
We text each other compliments
Constantly
Back and forth
But that's just something we do, right?
It doesn't mean anything.
That doesn't change the fact
That whenever i see your name with the words
"you're spectacular, I'm so proud of you!" attached to it
My heart skips a beat
You skipped a lecture on Wednesday
Just to come to snack time with me
Even though that lecture was a one time event
Even though you hate sugary foods
Even though it was out of your way
Even though you dislike crowds
You still went with me
You light up
When you talk about
What you learned in psych last period
You're so excited to share this random information with me
That you stumble over your words.
Yesterday, you told our lit teacher, randomly,
A concerning amount of knowledge
About the pressure points in our body
"Hear me out. I know what I'm talking about."
You could barely contain your laughter.
I spend an hour and a half texting you yesterday
All because you said you wanted to get a cat
We're co-parenting him, apparently.
You suggested we name him Martele
After the joke our orchestra teacher made
Now, every time I say his name, you grin
I caught you staring at me during orchestra today
You were trying to catch my eye to laugh at something our teacher said
How I hoped you were staring just to look at me.
"You're playing with your ring," you point out at lunch today, "what's making you nervous?"
I brush it off, laughing, and blame it on my anxiety disorder
How do I tell you that you're the one making me nervous?
How do I bring up the fact that you usually spin your pen when you're around me?
You smiled at me today
To show me the tooth that sticks out when you grin
"Look," you said through your teeth, "isn't this unfortunate?"
As long as you're smiling at me, nothing is unfortunate
Least of all you
You put your arm on my head today
As we were walking from lunch
"It's because I'm tall," you said, "I've got power over you."
You do have power over me
You just don't know it
And not because you're tall
***
Friday, Saturday, Sunday, and Monday. 9/2-9/5.
"Am I reading this wrong?" I ask you on Friday night
"Is this platonic?"
And you say no, I'm not reading this wrong
You say you've liked me all along
And I call you an idiot, jokingly
Because apparently trauma dumping does count as flirting
At least with us
The compliments? They did mean something.
Skipping that lecture? You did that because you wanted to spend time with me.
Staring at me in orchestra? It was genuine.
Being all touchy feely with me? That too.
Laughing at everything I say? Yep.
Waiting for me after every class? That as well.
And then we get to talking:
"I get that we have a mutual fondness for each other, but
is this a relationship?" You ask
What a wonderful question
I tell you that I'm asexual
That I dislike physical contact
I should have mentioned that I'm on the aromantic spectrum too
But I didn't
Because I was worried it would scare you away
"That's okay," you write, "I don't want to make you uncomfortable."
"We don't have to do any of that."
But physical touch is one of your love languages
Who am I to deprive you of that?
The more we talk, the more the pit in my stomach grows
We want different things from each other
Something that the other can't give
You could give me what I want, sure
A best friend
Someone I can spend time with outside of school with
Someone to walk to class with
Someone who makes me laugh
Someone to tease
Someone who loves me for who I am
And for who I'm not
And never will be
Because I'll never be that person
Someone who can run up to you and kiss you whenever I want
I won't want that, most likely
From anybody
I tried to imagine us cuddling on the couch
Watching the Disney movies you've never seen
(which is most of them)
And I feel like I might vomit
And I'm sitting at my computer, crying
Sobbing
Writing this
Because I care about you so fucking much
But in a different way than you care about me, I think
My stomach itches
I pull up my shirt
To reveal anxiety hives covering my torso
I haven't been eating as much as I should
My mouth is so dry that everything feels and tastes like cardboard
My stomach hurts too
Fuck.
I should ask you
"hey, what did you mean when you said the word relationship?"
"what does that mean for you?"
"this is what it means for me."
But I can't bring myself to ask.
Why? I don't know.
Maybe it's because I know I have to see you tomorrow
And you'll probably say something sappy
Call me perfect, one more time
And I'll cry
Again
Because of you
I'm crying now, sitting here, watching the rain
You're probably watching it too
Maybe you're playing your balloon guitar
(you still need to show me that, by the way)
Or looking for the murder of crows that lives by your house
I don't know why I'm writing this
Maybe it's because I hope you'll see this by accident somehow
Maybe I just need to get my feelings out.
Maybe I'll end up sending this to you, if everything works out
God, I hope it works out.
I really really hope it does.
I'll never delete anything on this poem,
Never alter a stanza, never change a spelling
Because I want it to reflect the emotions I felt while writing it
Maybe not the best artistic decision, but hey
Who cares?
It's my art
Is it our art, because it's about you?
***
Tuesday. 9/6.
I realize, now,
After I saw you today
I fucked up.
I fucked up, for real.
I was scared of being loved
Because I didn't think I deserved it
I didn't think I needed to be loved
I do need it.
"Literally nothing changed," you told me after orchestra today,
"We're still friends. I don't hate you."
But I can see the sadness on your face
Hear it in your voice
This is Tuesday, for future reference
The day after our roller coaster of a weekend
(you'll know what I mean)
I wish I could go back and change it
I regret what I said
I do
Truly
But the damage has been done, hasn't it?
I can't go back and alter the past
Can't unsay what I said
We'll stay friends, sure
That I'm not worried about.
But what if I don't want to stay your friend
And you don't want to stay mine?
We both want something more
(I think)
But we're either too shy or too stubborn to admit it
Homecoming is coming up in October
Maybe I'll ask you to that
If I have the guts
If I do, I'll probably send you this poem as well
Not as a declaration of my love (or whatever)
But as a sentiment:
"you make me feel so many things that they refuse to stay in my head, they demand to be written out."
I wrote poetry for you.
I hate poetry, but not when it's about you.
Or, if Homecoming doesn't work
Maybe I'll just ask you over for Halloween
You've never participated in it before
Why not start this year?
With me?
Even if none of this works out
Even if we stop talking completely
If I can make you laugh one more time
A real, genuine, laugh
I'll be okay, I think.
Maybe that is love
The fact that I'm writing poetry about you.
Not saying that we're going to get married
Or get together
Or whatever else that could be interpreted as
Maybe love is just saying hi in the hallways
Or teaching me how to flip your pen the way that you do
Or checking up on each other constantly
"u ok?" "how was ur day?" "got any memes?"
"say hi to the crows in ur yard for me."
What if you've changed your mind about me?
What if I sent one too many apologies
Or asked you one too many questions
I think that's why I don't say it
Because I'm afraid of the answer
So very afraid
I think I believe that I have to constantly be doing Things
To deserve love
Be it romantic or not
Hopefully I can get rid of that feeling soon
Because I want to be loved for who I am
Not for what I'm doing
If I do end up sending this to you:
Hi, you.
It's still Tuesday.
And I still regret not trying to hold your hand at lunch today
No matter how you would have seen it
Romantically or platonically
I wish I had
It would have been worth it just to see the look on your face
(I'm laughing about it now, you'd have looked so surprised)
You tried to steal my pencil from me
I don't know if you remember
It was the first time I made you laugh since what happened
It made my day
That sounds stupid, I know
But it did
It feels strange, writing this to you as opposed to it being for you
There's a difference, I guess.
The fact that I know you'll read this one day scares me
"oh shit, what if he realizes I'm not a robot devoid of emotions?"
That sort of thing.
How could I be devoid of emotions when you make me laugh the way that you do?
At lunch today when you said "the only By I am is By Myself."
What I should have said was "give me some time, I'm still figuring this out."
What I ended up doing was making some random joke
I regret that, too.
The look on your face would have been priceless.
Seeing the hope in your eyes would have been even better then hearing your laugh
If you do end up reading this,
You'll probably have all sorts of critiques
Complaints about how I broke up the stanzas
Or capitalization errors
(Am I supposed to capitalize every line?)
But secretly, you'll be pleased
That I don't only give you the time of day
But that I take time out of mine
To write about you
If I had to guess, knowing myself,
Considering nothing changes for the worse
I'll send this to you right after school
On the Friday before break
That's only 17 days away
17 days since we met, too
Funny how time works like that
You know what?
I think I might do just that
Considering nothing changes for the worse,
I'll ask you to Homecoming
And send you this
And hope I don't fuck this up
Again
"Is this a...Date™?" You might ask, "are you asking me out?"
"you decide," I'll say, "consider it an olive branch."
"I'd like it to be one, but I'm also cool just going as friends."
"I can bring some of my other friends along so it won't be awkward, if you choose the latter."
"no pressure."
I think I owe you that choice
Maybe, if you say yes,
I'll wear some 5 inch heels
So I can be taller then you
Finally rest my arm on your head comfortably
I should ask you in person,
If I end up doing this at all
But I won't
We're both too awkward to handle whatever the answer may be
And if your answer is no,
I'll be okay.
Really.
I'll be disappointed, sure, but
Mostly, I'll feel guilt
Because I know what we could've had
And I'll know that I messed that up
And if your answer is yes, hell
I don't know what I'll do
I haven't allowed myself to hope
If I send
"hi. i fucked up. let me try to fix this?" with a link to this attached
What will you say?
If you decide to shun me, okay.
I hope you don't shun me, though
If only to get feedback on this poem
Because I know you'll be the only one to ever see it
You're the only one I've ever written poetry for, anyways
If you decide to say "maybe, lemme think," okay.
If you decide you just want to be my friend, okay.
if you say yes (!!!), okay.
Most likely, you'll be embarrassed that I'm writing this for you
Hopefully for a good reason
But, no matter what your answer is,
I hope you can tell me what you truly think about This Whole Thing
Because we're nothing if not good communicators
And I don't want that to change because I wrote this
Hell, I'm embarrassed too
I'M WRITING POETRY
P O E T R Y
ABOUT Y O U
I'M EXPRESSING THE DEPTH OF MY FEELINGS FOR ANOTHER HUMAN BEING THAT ISN'T IN A JOKING MANNER
I DON'T KNOW WHAT I'M DOING
Gotta love that for me
Please don't think that I have the ability to just hit send on this
When I do, I'll yeet my phnoe across the room and not check it for 72 hours
Out of pure embarrassment
Because this is, quite possibly, the most vulnerable and open thing I've ever done.
That's what poetry is, right?
Vulnerability on a page.
Or a website, in this case.
But I've already made myself a promise that you're going to see this
Sooner or late
So, I might as well go ahead and hit send
I didn't start writing this as a way to tell you I like you
It's turning out to be that, but that wasn't the original purpose
I just wrote it to get my feelings out.
I felt like I was too awkward to say it in person or over text
So here I am.
This isn't meant to be some sappy love poem
I beg you
I implore you
I plead with you not to see it as that.
It's a diary.
You just happen to be in it a lot.
I guess it functions as one, though
One that says:
"hey, I like this person and I hope he doesn't hate me for it."
"I hope things don't change too much."
It's just a shitty poem, that's all
I find it so much easier to express my feelings in writing
There's no chance for buffering that way
I guess that's partially why I wrote this
It's easier for me
I stutter too much when I'm around people I like
It's a wonder I didn't start writing earlier
Even though it's a shit piece of poetry, at least it's a start,
Right?
I'm a sappy person, apparently
Something I didn't know about myself before I met you
Maybe I'm even as sappy as you
***
Today is Wednesday. 9/7.
I realized that fact at precisely 2:16am
When I woke up from a dream
You were in it, of course
You've been on my mind a lot lately
It's no surprise that my subconscious picked up on that too
We were in Home Depot, I think
Buying potted ferns for whatever reason
There was a Starbucks inside it, too
Suddenly, you weren't by my side
(Foreshadowing? I hope not.)
I texted you:
"oi, ask me out already."
You responded immediately:
"MY LOVE,
THEY HAVE EMANCIPATED FRANCE."
I'm laughing about it now as I'm typing this
Because of course dream you would bring up this totally random information
That had zero relevance to what the conversation was
It's something I like about you both in real life and in dreams
I thought about telling you about my dream today
If only because of the rush of disappointment I felt when I realized
That you didn't actually say that to me
That we weren't actually together
I'm glad I didn't, though.
I don't think I would have been able to make you understand
Just why it meant so much to me
I hope that you know I still like you
That I still want This
I'm just a coward
Because if you Have something, then you can Lose it
And I don't think I could lose you
(Sappy me, blah blah blah. I know, shut up.)
(Blame it on the muse.)
It's easier to pretend I don't care
But I do
I should probably tell you that
But I won't
Not yet
Because you haven't texted me first in a couple of days
And I don't want to seem needy
Am I overthinking it?
Probably.
There's not much else I can do
Except do homework and write bad poetry
And hope that you'll text me soon
I'm realizing now that you don't know this
Because it's all in my head
So how could you know?
I've only said this to two people,
Only one of whom you've met
You sit next to them at lunch.
Maybe if they mention how I feel
Everything will go away
I'd rather it come from me, though,
Even if it is indirect
And even if it is through a poem
(Is that a rhyme?
Maybe I'm better at this than I thought.)
Should I send this to you now?
Right now?
At this very moment?
Walk in to the kitchen, grab my phone, and say:
"hey I lost a bet and now I have to send u this, enjoy."
Maybe that would be the better option
Because we did say we were going to figure it out
But what if this all comes too soon?
I don't mean to be pushy, really,
(no, really. I mean it.)
I just don't have any other way of putting this into words
How I feel
Both my admiration for you and my guilt about this past weekend
I'm not saying that I'm In Love™ with you
Please please please don't take it that way
I use that word extremely loosely and I use it quite a lot
I Love my parents,
My friends,
My dog,
My plants,
Big comfy sweaters,
My books,
Making people laugh,
Hiking,
My cousins,
The city of New York,
Waking up early to see the sunrise,
Traveling,
Archaeology,
Stargazing,
Music,
My cello,
You.
You get the picture.
I cringed writing that last stanza
Doesn't mean its not true
(It is)
I just wonder how you'll take it
Because, like I said before,
This isn't some gross sappy love poem
I'm not saying, "marry me."
I'm saying that I care about you
That's all this is.
And it's easier to say it like this
Instead of on the way to orchestra
Or to math
Where there's more of a chance of me getting it wrong
When there's more of a chance of you making me laugh so hard that I forget what I was saying
Where there's more of a chance of me stuttering and stumbling and buffering over my words
I hope you're just being awkward
I hope that's why you're acting different
I'd even take you believing I didn't like you back
As opposed to you losing feelings for me
Because this will be really, really, really awkward
If you've lost feelings at the same time I've finally come to terms with mine
And if you're reading this, cringing, thinking,
"Ohh, yeah, I never actually liked you," or
"This is super weird and I am Not Looking Forward to seeing you on Monday," or
"I just see you as a friend after what happened," or
"Writing poetry?? Cringe. We're in highschool, dipshit, this ain't a Disney movie,"
Or anything else that I'm afraid of you saying
Then I'm sorry.
I know I told you I don't understand social cues,
But you probably didn't know just how much I meant it.
I could be completely overstretching my bounds and I would have no idea.
Or you could find this cute, who knows.
Knowing me, with my luck, it'll probably be the former.
That would suck.
***
Happy Thursday, you. 9/8.
I texted you late last night to clarify my feelings:
"Just because I have anxiety doesn't mean that I don't like you back. I do like you back. It just means that I have anxiety."
You were nice about it, of course
Reiterated the fact that you're okay with us staying friends
Maybe you were a bit too enthusiastic about us staying friends
Now that I think about it
Should I have seen that coming?
And just like that,
What little conversation we had today was strained
For the first time since I met you, I walked alone to math
You didn't sit with me at lunch today
Or walk with me from lunch to our next class
I feel better about This Whole Thing, though,
Because at least I was honest.
I told you how I felt, and now the ball is in your court.
There's no hard feelings, at least on my side.
I hope it's the same for you.
I won't mention This anymore, at least until you do
Because I've said my piece, right?
There's nothing else I can do, even if I wanted to.
I'm still your friend (if you'd like me to be),
I'll still walk with you from class to class (if you'd like me to)
I'll still talk to you in lit (if you'd like that)
I'd still let you play my cello (if you'd like to try)
I'd still like to see your balloon guitar,
To have you visit me at work,
To have you teach me how to spin your pen,
To smile and to laugh with you.
I'll still ask you over for Halloween
Along with a big group of my other friends
Because even though things have changed, I still care about you
You don't have to come, obviously, but sometimes,
It's the thought that counts.
The thought that says, "hey, come eat sugar and watch bad movies with us,"
The thought that says, "you're wanted,"
The thought that says, "you aren't alone,"
Unless you want to be alone, in that case,
Go for it.
I'm not going to be the person who shatters your personal space bubble.
I'd just like to be the person who opens mine to you.
As long as you know that I still care about you
That I still want you to love and be loved
That I still want you have the happiness that you deserve
I don't care what happens.
That sounds dramatic and kind of mean
But it isn't meant to be
Whatever happens with Us, I should have said
Whether we stay friends, go out, or somewhere in between
Even if we stop talking all together
As long as you know that I'd still give you the time of day if you asked,
As long as you know you can still walk up to me in the hallway,
As long as you know that there's still a place in my life for you
(Now, whether you want to take that place is up to you. It's there, though, and it's there to stay.)
I'm okay with it whatever happens
***
Happy Friday. 9/9.
Is it appropriate to say that I miss you
When you're right here next to me?
When we have three classes together?
When we text each other every now and then?
When we have some of the same friends?
No matter if it's appropriate or not, I do miss you
I miss making you laugh
I miss you making me smile
I miss our late night conversations about nothing at all
(Again, a rhyme? Not bad.)
I miss when you'd crouch by my desk
Rest your elbow next to my water bottle
And ask me how my morning was
"Yeah?" You'd say, "Well, in psych..."
And you'd go on and on about it
(Not that I minded)
(I loved it, actually.)
Sometimes, I'd catch you glancing up at me
Just to make sure I understood your joke
Or that I was enjoying the conversation
Every time our eyes would meet, you'd stop talking
For a split second
And pause to shake the hair out of your eyes
To see me better, maybe
Or maybe you were just self conscious
Sometimes, I'd glance backwards at you during class
Right after you went back to your desk
And I'd get to see you smile to yourself
About some joke I'd made the minute before
I realize that I could be idealizing this
I know it wasn't all flowers and daydreams and laughter and teasing
But it doesn't really matter, does it?
I had fun.
I think you did as well.
Doesn't change the fact that I still grin when you do
Doesn't change the fact that I wish we'd hang out more
I still see things that remind me of you
And wish we were close enough for me to show it to you
Without getting a one word response
I know the best solution to this is,
Simply enough:
Talk to you
I don't want to invade your personal space
If you don't want to talk to me, that's fine
I still text you first, though
Still smile at you in class
I hope that says, "Hi. You can talk to me if you want. I want to talk to you."
But I'll let you approach me first
Because I've already texted you about This
Now it's your turn
I'd like to think that you're just scared to bring it up
Not that you don't care about me anymore
That very well could be wishful thinking
(I did say like to think, didn't I?)
Knowing me, though
With my everlasting optimism
I'll assume the best until proven otherwise
I'll just assume you're being awkward
Or shy
Or anxious
Even if the signs are there that you're done
Done with me
***
It's Saturday, this time. 9/10.
And I have a thought
That thought is this:
I'd rather have you hate me than feel nothing towards me
Because the opposite of love isn't hate
It's apathy
Hate means that I'm still in your mind
But apathy?
You'd never think of me again
***
Sunday. 9/11.
I've done this before, actually.
Being friends with a guy,
then the Talking Phase.
When we inevitably grew apart,
It didn't bother me
Because I didn't know what I was losing
I didn't realize that I was flirting with him
And he back at me
I just thought that was what friends did
I figured it was normal
So when we got our schedules
And I moved up a level in orchestra
Without him
Leaving him behind
And we realized that was it
I grinned at him, made a joke, and moved on
It was easy for me to let him go
Because I didn't realize the importance of what I had
But with you?
***
You walked me to orchestra today, Monday. 9/12.
And then walked me to math
You sat next to me at lunch today
And walked me to chemistry afterwards
That's all I have to write for today, really.
You spent time with me, it made me happy.
Hopefully it made you happy too.
I got to make you laugh for the first time in a while.
Don't have much else to say.
***
It's Tuesday. 9/13.
Theoretically.
Nothing much changed.
I've got nothing to write.
I should be doing homework.
***
Thursday. 9/15.
I just read this in it's entirety for the first time since writing it.
Yikes.
I am one sappy, dramatic motherfucker, aren't I?
Not saying that what I wrote isn't true
(It is)
But goddamn if I can't crank out some damn good poetry when the need arises
No, I mean it.
I think this this might be the best piece of writing I've ever created.
Blame it on the muse.
I'm over this whole Thing, really.
I'm done being sad and writing poetry and crying about It
I'm tired of being so upset over something I can't contol
Notice how I didn't say I was over you?
Cause I'm not.
I still feel all that guilt I mentioned,
I still miss you,
I still want to make you laugh,
Yadda yadda.
Sappy shit.
I'm not upset about it anymore, which is good.
I've come to accept the fact that we aren't going to go out
Unless you have a plan to hand me a small creature of questionable cuteness and use that to ask me to homecoming
(I'd say yes)
We're friends.
I'm genuinely happy with that.
Are you?
I don't want to you to alter how you feel about me just because of this extremely long and wordy poem
Yes, I'd accept if you asked me to homecoming
No, I'm not planning on asking you (at least at the time of writing this.)
No, that doesn't mean I've lost feelings for you
Yes, that means I'm happy where We Are and I don't feel the need to change This
Yes, I still want to be your friend.
Yes, I am nothing if not confusing.
***
Friday. 9/16.
A week before I'm supposed to send this to you.
And I've had yet another thought:
(Surprising, right?)
It isn't my responsibility to maintain relationships.
That isn't a dig at you, or at anybody
It's just something I realized.
I'm not a focal point in other peoples lives, however much I would like to be
And because of that, I don't have to go out of my way to keep them in my life
If they don't want to be close to me, I don't have to go chasing after them
I'm not required to jump through hoops just to stay friends with somebody
It's late, past midnight
(Goodnight, by the way. I didn't text you to say goodnight for once.)
And I don't know how I'll see this when I wake up the morning
If I'll wake up and worry about whether or not you'll be offended by this
It isn't a dig
Honestly
Just one of the points
On this journey called September
That I deemed important enough to write down
And to share with you, apparently
To show you I'm growing.
Thank you for that, by the way
One of the many positives of having people tell you that you're perfect
Is that, eventually, you start to believe it
I don't believe I'm perfect, of course
I'm not
I'm too much of a coward and too annoying and far too selfish to be perfect
But I do feel a lot better about myself
And I attribute that partially to you
***
Saturday. 9/17.
I really am selfish, aren't I?
Thinking that I matter enough to people
For them to text me first
Or to hang out outside of school
Because nobody ever does
And that would be fine,
If I had enough self awareness to realize that people don't actually want to be around me
But here I am, ever the optimist
And I keep going after people who don't want me back
Not even with romance, I feel this way about friendships too
I've realized I've done that with you
Because if you wanted to talk to me, you would
Wanted to hang out, you'd ask
If you wanted to be around me, you'd make an effort to be
And I'm sorry it took me this long to realize it
Now, that isn't to say I don't want to be around people
I do.
But, like I wrote yesterday,
Friendships are two way streets.
If my car is ready to go and your motorcycle is firmly parked, that's fine
I just wish I had realized it earlier
That's a weird analogy, but you know what I mean.
Hopefully.
It doesn't matter how strong my desire is to have a particular relationship with someone,
Because if they think I'm annoying
Or clingy
Or weird
Or not smart enough
Or that my voice is too high
Or that I've got too much of a baby face
Or I that have too many weird hobbies
(or not enough of them)
Or that I'm too quiet
I can't force people to care about me.
So I just...exist.
On the edges of friend groups
Hoping that maybe I'll be able to make somebody laugh
Or maybe I'll bring someone a mint, as a show of kindness
Grab a ruler bookmark off a table for them
(I grabbed one for you because you mentioned you wanted one. It's in my folder if you still want it.)
Or print out some sheet music I know they'd like
Bring a deck of cards to lunch to make people feel less alone
I do all of those things, and I genuinely enjoy it
Seeing people smile is the highlight of my day
Knowing I made them laugh is even better
I just figured I would've found somebody who'd bring me a mint
Or go out of their way to make me smile
Or send me a picture of something I like, just because
Hell, I'd even settle for a, "this remined me of you." text
Because if somebody sent me that, it'd mean I was in their thoughts
Again, this isn't a dig at you
Or at anybody
I'm just ranting
There's a kind of comfort in being sad, isn't there?
You brought that up a while back
Said you believed the worst because you could only be pleasantly surprised
I see the appeal of that mindset now
Maybe it's the undiagnosed Whatever that I have,
But I don't see how people can care about each other
Without actually showing it
I care about you,
So I show it.
I text you memes,
Make jokes,
Walk you to class,
And write you poetry.
It's as simple as that.
It's been sixteen years, and I've yet to find somebody who's wiling to do that for me
Well, that isn't quite true
I have found people, they just leave
Usually it's no one's fault,
Either we don't have any classes together
Or we just grow apart naturally.
I still miss those people
Still upset that they aren't in my life anymore.
Am I not special enough to make an impact on people?
Do people really not care, or am I overreacting?
Probably overreacting.
I know I'm just being self deprecating
That tomorrow I'll wake up and feel fine
It feels good to write it down, though.
And if you do end up reading this,
Surprise!
I'm not all giggles and blushing and happiness.
Most likely you don't care about this sadder side of me
Or you're weirded out by the fact that I included it in Your poem
I'm not going to delete it, though.
I did say I'd never alter a stanza, right?
I guess the reason I included it
Is because I thought you'd be able to relate
That isnt 100% true,
Just because my self esteem in the gutter doesn't mean yours is too
And just because it is doesn't mean I expect you to do anything about it
I didn't include this as a nudge for you (or anybody) to suddenly start doing things for me
Really, I didn't.
I'm just a little sad
It feels better to write it out rather than internalize it
***
Sunday. 9/18.
I don't know what the FUCK I was thinking,
But you're NEVER seeing this.
I'm not about to hand somebody the key to my heart and say,
"here you go. i trust you. i trust you to have this information and not leave."
(not a metaphor, i've actually got a key necklace. one of my campers three years referred to it as they key to my heart. i only wear it on special occasions.)
Not that I think you'd do anything bad with the information in this
You wouldn't
It's too big of a risk to take
It's too personal, too vulnerable
It's scary to admit that I've got feelings beyond the ones I express out loud
Even scarier than being loved.
***
Monday. 9/19.
I keep teetering
Wavering
Wobbling
On this line.
The first option,
My brain tells me that you're over me
That you only see me as a friend
That you might not even see me as that
That I annoy you
And that you dread every conversation you have with me.
Unlikely (I hope).
The second,
I keep thinking that you do want me back
That you regret our decision as much as I do
That you grin every time I text you or walk up to you at school
That you think of me as much as I think of you.
Also unlikely.
If not either of those two options, then what?
I was rereading some text messages
Between a friend and I
From a about a month ago
Talking about you, of course
"caden," he wrote, "i get that ur scared to be in a Relationship™ and no one should force you to be in one if you don't wanna be, but are you sure this isn't just fear because you haven't done this before?"
I shook it off, refused to believe that he was right
How weak am I if I let fear stop me from getting the one thing I've wanted for years?
He was right
Of course he was
I was scared,
Petrified.
About the physical contact?
I do like it.
The implication of being in a Relationship™ that included physical contact, however
The expectations it would require from me
The kissing? More?
Initiating a kiss, God forbid?
That scared the living shit out of me
I haven't told you that
Writing this is making me think, "what else scared me about This?"
The expectations, most likely
The two couples that I'm close to are really Touchy™ and Sexual all the time
I've nothing against that, if it works for them.
And even though I know
Logically
We wouldn't be like that
(that kind of relationship is largely stereotypical)
It still makes my stomach turn
If you wanted that kind of relationship and I didn't?
Hell.
Writing this is also making me think, "what did I want from you? From This? What was I hoping to gain?"
I wanted what we had.
Two people, touchy (but not overly so. linked arms in the hallway, hugs, arms on top of heads. laying on the couch and flopping my legs over yours because you've stolen the Good Seat.)
Teasing, flirting. (playful insults, genuine compliments. jokes about my stutter or about your old fashioned quips. "you've handed me a small creature of questionable cuteness? marry me.")
Closeness. (sharing a hoodie. hanging out after school. meeting each others pets. texting, "wanna go for a walk?" at midnight. we know each others trauma but not each others birthdays. comforting each other when we're sad and celebrating when we're happy. random phone calls.)
Music. (yeah, music is apparently a big point for me. who knew? printing out music for each other. duetting. practicing in our free time. showing me your balloon guitar. you, trying out my cello. me, struggling to play your violin.)
Laughter. (what else can i say about this?)
Crooked tooth,
Depression,
Acne,
Anxious thoughts,
Questionable taste in movies,
(and in people. you liked me, after all)
I want it all.
You'll find that hard to believe, I know
That I like you for who you are
And aren't
And never will be
I really, really do.
Hell, even I found it hard to believe.
Not the part about you,
But the fact that I was the one feeling these feelings.
ME, of all people
It surprised me
At first
How much I like you
Grinning whenever I thought of you was my first clue
Obsessively checking my phone to see if you texted me was my second
Laughing at everything you said (even if it wasn't meant to be a joke) was my third
You know the rest.
***
Tuesday. 9/20.
It's probably the first option.
I'm me, after all.
And you're you.
And the person who sits next to you at lunch is so much cooler and prettier and smarter than I am.
Why would somebody like you settle for somebody like me?
You told me you'd never stop liking me
That you could never hate me
That you'd always care about me
I told you the same thing right back
And I meant every word.
Did you?
Posted Sep 20, 2022, 8:33 PM UTC