I don’t get it either.
I know you’re sitting here in your blazer
and moderately high heels
getting mascara all the way down to your collar.
And I don’t get it.
And I know you know they say it doesn’t always make sense
but goddammit if you didn’t want it to this time.
You just wanted it to make sense.
And maybe you can’t hear these next things right now.
But maybe you can read them.
And read them again,
And read again.
Until at least your left hand isn’t clutching the snot covered tissue.
You are worth more than this.
You are worth more than however small they told you, you were.
You are worth more than the mid-lunch rejection email that reminds you they would looooove to still see you come back.
You are worth more than the morning light sneak out, the shushed mention of her name, the “i’m tired, let’s try again another night.”
You are worth more than the never remembering your name.
You are worth more than the 8-5 office, the small window, the sad song on repeat turned down, the “we’ll call you”.
You are worth more than someplace to go at 3 am.
Don’t answer that phone call.
The lock is only as sturdy as you believe it is.
Keep the deadbolt clicked and beat your chest until your heart starts speeding and tell her you’re listening.
If no one else is fucking listening, you are.
You notice her. You hear that fucking beautiful song.
I’ve heard the phrase, “we accept the love we think we deserve.”
And you think love is all thunderstorms and missed calls and it’s not.
It’s more than you’ve allowed yourself to hope for because they all taught you something so different.
And you deserve more.
You deserve front porch kisses
and daytime hand holding
and to wear shoes that you love
and to spend all these work hours pushing towards something you care about.
You deserve someone who answers the phone
and a home that grieves your absense
and a bank account that is filled with tokens of kindness that you’ve given away because you never run out of those.
You deserve a listener
a follower into the darkness
a reminder of the light
a harmony to your heart beat.
I’m sorry if it’s not here yet.
I can feel the ache you’re constantly trying to bury.
Let it unearth itself sometimes ok?
You can cover yourself in the dirt of it.
And I’m sorry.
I’m so sorry.
I’ll be here
listening in the darkness
no matter how long you want to shake.
Give yourself permission to make some noise.