it’s funny how things change. and the ones you want to don’t at all. i’ve always had an impulsive streak threaded through with tinged jealousy and i have always had the anger of an untamed wild thing. over the years i’ve learned with careful training that i could but mask my flaws with a smile. a half twitch of my facial muscles or a spurted out joke to soften the awkward air. i like to say that friendships don’t work for me. they never have. i come on too strong or so subtle that i am over looked. i’ve has friends lie and leave. ones that denied knowing me in a group chat they knew i was in. they are the reason i grew up believing that i was a wrecking ball and to be with me was to be chained. i think some girls live on doubt like food and they loathe it so much they want to pass it. whatever the case i have grown up in the firmly cemented belief that i was meant to be alone. loneliness along with hunger because a well known feeling. but this summer i found all my piece. i found ones that had drifted away, like my occasional gentle smile. i gathered these all together with the intent to piece together a girl that i both wanted to be and could. i have always been good at puzzles. so slowly i pushed the last perfect piece in to form the imperfect beauty i call myself. i finally felt worthy of friendship. i was armed with the power of a laugh or sassy retort. i has built myself up from dust and that was a heady invincible feeling. so when high school started i found friendship. i’ve always been a social butterfly masked as a girl. what i didn’t realize was that maybe i hasn’t changed that much. and maybe my choice in friends hadn’t either. when you get broken hearted by the same people over and over again you start to recognize the eyes. of course i am naive before i am wise. i am selfish in the way that you tell me offhandedly that you tell her everything. yet you leave me with few if any information. if i was a well i would be constantly empty because time after time i pour my heart out to you. i tell you my every worry and trouble. you have talked he down from panic attacks and more. yet i always find when i turn the same questions on you and offer you the same advice i am left on read. it hurts to know that while my first choice is always you, that is not returned. i am horribly selfish, i admit. but it hurts knowing that she comes before me. i know that life isn’t a contest but i often feel i am just a person on your checklist. a big black check. conversation, check. hello, check. your time has been split between him and me and her and people. i no longer call myself a wrecking ball. i have found friends i love more than anything. and you were one of them. yet i find it amazing how you assume and don’t ask me what’s wrong the one time i want you to. i find irony in the fact that your love has turned so quickly to hate. i admit i miss you. i know this almost-emotion isn’t returned. but i miss you. so many times my fingers have flew quickly to your contact name. i wanted to tell you about this new boy i met. how the cavity of my stumach is filled with grief from what, i don’t know. for the first time in my life i am uncertain if we will end with a period or if our combined wills can turn it into a comma. a semi colon. or even a question asking me of the feelings of jealousy i didn’t reveal to you. for the first time in my life i am a uncertain writer. stuck. writers block. what happens next?
Perfectly Imperfect Me 