I feel lost in a world that has forgotten me, that never took the time to know me.
It’s not just this time that I haven’t been answered, it’s all of them compounded into one. All those responses to responses that never came saying “hey, I know you’re busy but maybe if we could talk sometime” because being polite about being forgotten is the only way to be.
Because somehow it always feels like your fault even though you couldn’t do anything about it.
You’re the one that was waiting. You’re the one with unrealistic expectations. You’re the one that if you waited for another three days maybe they would have answered and wouldn’t have made everyone feel worse. You’re the one that has to deal with the somewhat false apologies from people who don’t feel bad that they’ve forgotten you but embarrassed because you called them out on it.
And you told them you’re always free. It doesn’t really matter when they answer. You won’t be doing anything.
But what they don’t know is that what you did with all that free time was wait in vain for that answer that never came.
This is complied again on top of all the promises that have been broken, all the words that were spoken false, all the lies that have been said to you without a small sign of remorse.
And under all of that there you are with that heart crushing feeling that maybe if you were different it wouldn’t, couldn’t be like this. That people might care more or forget you less. Treat you more like a person and less like a fixture that isn’t going anywhere. Think that maybe you feel too.
Think that you have more worth than a frame wearing clothes, a repository of information, a sprouter of facts when they’re needed, a rememberer of dates when they’re forgotten, the one that’s early when everyone else is late, the one who sits and waits, the one who whispered the ideas in your ear, the one who acts behind everything and lets you be the face.
It’s always more than that one missed reply, that one missed hi. It’s all of them and the useless feeling that they became. The one that tells you you’re not good enough even though you know you are. The one that tells you that when you said that no one listened but when they said it they will so you should give that idea to someone else to take. The one that tells you you’re alone and you can’t fix it.
And when you tell anyone they will always tell you that’s not the case because that’s what we’re told to believe. That everyone loves one another, that we are a we and that there are no solitary I’s.
So there’s this feeling of being alone in a world that never got to know you, that doesn’t want to know you because they know that you don’t fit the mold.
The worse thing is that the next time they don’t answer it will be the same and you’ll always think if I waited those extra three days it would have been different, it would be different if I was different.
It’s not just this time that I haven’t been answered, it’s all of them compounded into one. All those responses to responses that never came saying “hey, I know you’re busy but maybe if we could talk sometime” because being polite about being forgotten is the only way to be.
Because somehow it always feels like your fault even though you couldn’t do anything about it.
You’re the one that was waiting. You’re the one with unrealistic expectations. You’re the one that if you waited for another three days maybe they would have answered and wouldn’t have made everyone feel worse. You’re the one that has to deal with the somewhat false apologies from people who don’t feel bad that they’ve forgotten you but embarrassed because you called them out on it.
And you told them you’re always free. It doesn’t really matter when they answer. You won’t be doing anything.
But what they don’t know is that what you did with all that free time was wait in vain for that answer that never came.
This is complied again on top of all the promises that have been broken, all the words that were spoken false, all the lies that have been said to you without a small sign of remorse.
And under all of that there you are with that heart crushing feeling that maybe if you were different it wouldn’t, couldn’t be like this. That people might care more or forget you less. Treat you more like a person and less like a fixture that isn’t going anywhere. Think that maybe you feel too.
Think that you have more worth than a frame wearing clothes, a repository of information, a sprouter of facts when they’re needed, a rememberer of dates when they’re forgotten, the one that’s early when everyone else is late, the one who sits and waits, the one who whispered the ideas in your ear, the one who acts behind everything and lets you be the face.
It’s always more than that one missed reply, that one missed hi. It’s all of them and the useless feeling that they became. The one that tells you you’re not good enough even though you know you are. The one that tells you that when you said that no one listened but when they said it they will so you should give that idea to someone else to take. The one that tells you you’re alone and you can’t fix it.
And when you tell anyone they will always tell you that’s not the case because that’s what we’re told to believe. That everyone loves one another, that we are a we and that there are no solitary I’s.
So there’s this feeling of being alone in a world that never got to know you, that doesn’t want to know you because they know that you don’t fit the mold.
The worse thing is that the next time they don’t answer it will be the same and you’ll always think if I waited those extra three days it would have been different, it would be different if I was different.
