Slowly, I walk home, Ashamed
I've never been the popular kid so I don't know why I
try. I always talk too much, tell too much about myself, say
whatever I think I'm supposed to say, within reason, or whatever I’m
thinking in that moment. I value honesty too much. Then I try to soften my words. "Sorry!"
I say, for anything, for existing really. I
just want so much for people to like me. God didn't
throw away the mold when he made me. I'm moldy to my core, I know.
Undesirable. "Doesn't matter what they think." I try to tell myself, but this
isn't true. I've always been best at lying to myself. What matters most to me is
people find me kind. I might be my toughest critic, but who knows? And what
does that matter when I am lying awake replaying the night. "Was I
mean? Did they think I was serious when I was joking? Had
I just kept my mouth closed, would there have been
numbers exchanged? Would I have made a new friend?" I wonder. "Or would I be using
them to feel better about myself or inviting them to
use me? " If I just took a moment to stop and breathe,
To appreciate the things I have and the people who like me for who I am, would I be happy with
my life? Would that be enough after all
the parties, all the drinks. After smiling through those
unwanted advances and hurtful observations that I remember for years?
"Things You Can Hold Inside Your Chest" by Lauren Gordon can be found at http://lyrelyre.com/six/six-poetry-journal/lauren-gordon/
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