I don’t know why you touched me so.
We met only once, but there was a spark,
a tiny flame that so rarely ignites for me.
You felt immediately kindred,
in a way that most never do.
And so I clung to you.
Hopeful,
wishful,
but also senseless.
And when words are all I have,
I hang on every one.
I see false messages between lines
never meant to exist.
My head knows this is unfair to you.
Who am I to expect so much?
After all,
my standards are more shallow
for those less important to me.
But I wanted so much from you.
I wanted to be chosen.
I wanted to be known.
To be deemed worthy
of interest and pursuit.
To be added to the ranks
of your numerous loves
would have been so validating.
And so I pined.
And then I pushed…
too far, it seems.
Your silence deafens,
screaming bitter words
about my stupidity,
my immaturity,
my inexperience.
Your rejection burns,
scalding the surface of my fragile ego,
revealing long-buried reminders
of my inadequacy.
It has been so long
since I’ve faced such a blatant dismissal,
that I had forgotten
how torturous it could be.
And yet somehow,
I still hope.
My heart leaps with each new message,
praying that it’s you,
back to tell me that I was wrong,
that you haven’t discarded me.
Then my pride chimes in that no,
I deserve more than your crumbs.
I am worthy of more
than your convenient attention.
“You can’t fire me… I quit!” she says.
But I don’t want to deny you.
I thought I was past this,
this need for external validation.
I thought I had grown,
become strong enough
to no longer require anyone’s approval.
But you have exposed me,
laid bare my true self,
my inadequate,
unpopular,
unworthy essence.
You have uncovered the child who remained
huddled,
shivering
against the cold wind of rejection.
Perhaps you were meant to.
Perhaps this was your purpose,
not to love me, as I wanted,
but to reveal my remaining weaknesses.
So… thank you.
Thank you
for the temporary warmth
that your spark provided.
Thank you
for sharing your perspective.
Thank you
for the growth you have inspired.
Heartbreak will find me,
whether I invite it or not,
so I might as well enjoy the high.
The Brave Little Cupcake 