picked a fight with a friend. here we are.
In what has to be the most classic unequal treatment of all time,
My mother told me,
I will never let you get away with not sending us any updates for two days,
When you get pregnant,
Not telling us if the baby is born for two days,
Like your brother did.
I want my hope back please.
The hope I had yesterday,
Still had yesterday,
Before you said,
Before you told me,
What did you tell me,
That you really don’t have time to think of anyone else in your life,
You’re too busy with the maelstrom (your word not mine) of what’s going on with you right now
To keep track of anything else,
I didn’t have it in my calendar.
Because your friends have to be scheduled,
Shouted from the rooftops to tell you something’s important, instead of implied.
I think you’re expecting more of me than I can give, was what you said,
The implication being, you’re not worth my long-term,
Not worth the energy,
Exactly what you told me all those months ago,
If I would have listened to you,
Tell me I was fine for right now, but didn’t check enough boxes for anything longer-term
And made sure I knew it.
You’re right. I should have scheduled time with you
So you could remember to ask how I was doing,
To remember to ask how someone else is doing on their father’s birthday,
Their father who just died.
The thing is,
You didn’t even register how awful that sounded,
There was no expectation of growth,
No acknowledgement that what came out of your mouth was an awful thing to say.
It reminded me of why I left that last relationship
I would love to still be friends with him,
But he couldn’t put me first,
He couldn’t say it out loud how he was feeling,
So I cut him off,
Because that pain was my choice,
Rather than the endless leeching of me thinking I’m not good enough,
Not good enough to be the first phone call after an emergency.
No, scratch that,
I high-key hope you remember a little bit of how little support you were,
When someone you loves dies.
Just a little bit,
I hope something clicks and you think,
Wow, what an asshole I am,
I should’ve been nicer to her.
But then, I would still be providing you lessons,
Unpaid labor, after we’re done and gone.
Because we will be done and gone.
I feel it in my bones now.
Maybe not tomorrow.
But the time will come.
You signed for the package, you signed you name by saying I am more important than anything you’re going through. Confirm delivery receipt.
You know what I’m a big fan of?
Not knowing what to talk to your therapist about,
Because so much happened in a week,
You don’t want to overwhelm them.
My friend got engaged.
She would get a week,
At least four days, of happiness.
Where she wouldn’t be daily struggling with the choo-choo depression train,
Or the, barely hanging on, train.
We thought that so many of her insecurities would be erased,
Just like she said they would be,
If she knew for a fact he wanted her,
But here we are on a Thursday,
And she still just can’t talk right now,
Because the day’s been too hard.