Maybe If I Were Braver (Part Three)
I’d know the words to tell you—rather than these pleading thoughts of mine.
I’d ask you to meet before you leave.
And I want to, really I do.
And I’m jealous of your friends who are your age, who live near you, who are able to relate in a way I can’t be expected to.
Is it so wrong that I hope you get jealous when my newest guy friend comments and posts on my wall? And it seems like ever since he (who is only a friend—we both friendzoned each other pretty quickly, thankfully) started, you’ve been ever-present on my on-line interactions?
Or am I just imagining things again….
I could become a doctor: I have all the scores, the work ethic, the talent. Sure, organic chemistry would have kicked my ass, but I could have done it. I wouldn’t have been the best, but I could have started my way to become an oncologist or psychiatrist.
I would have been able to opt out of all of the general academic courses because of my AP credit.
But instead, here I sit, pretending that I make things that make you feel something.
I could have become a doctor, I still could if I wanted to badly enough.
I could have become a certified person to help you, instead of a seven dollar film ticket to help you emotionally.
But instead, I tried to follow my heart rather my head.
I did all the right things; we met in public, a well-light area, I kept my voice even, I kept my speech riddled with facts.
I wanted to break up with you, my best friend for nearly seven years.
We were growing apart, we were spending more time fighting and debating and trying to sweep our literal problems under a figurative rug.
You made me less than what I could be; with you, I wasn’t the person who I wanted to become.
And you flared up, turning into a person I did not, could not, recognise.
‘No one else will put up with your shit like I do,’ you growled to me.
But I remained strong, secure in the fact that you were wrong. I remained calm and called you out on your lies.
A little more talking, a little less drinking of the coffee that waitress was set on pouring for me.
We haven’t spoken since last summer, I haven’t regretted saying ‘good-bye’ to you. I haven’t thought of calling you like I very nearly called Coffee Boy.
Sometimes I wonder if I did the right thing, instead of the best.
And on different days I have different answers.
But right now, I am content with my decision made months ago.
I looked you up on Facebook.
Fifty-one mutual friends that are more yours than mine.
And I asked to add you as a ‘friend’
I laughed, loudly and out of my head into the ‘real’ world.
I want you to see me,
and see how great my life is at this moment.
Because it is fucking amazing.
I prayed to the God you don’t believe in;
thanking Him for putting you in my life.
you keep me grounded in reality;
when so oft my thoughts fly above unleashed.