To anyone reading, these are my words. Written years ago, but they are my words nonetheless. I have a writing blog I will be setting up shortly, but sometimes, a poem just begs to be posted.
(September 6th, 2004)
Has your exploration
and intricate dissection
taught you anything more about me?
Are my mysteries discovered,
the causes known, recovered?
Am I more known to you
as you are known to me?
Can you say my introspection
equaled your dissection?
Are my insides how they’re supposed to be?
Or, in further inquisition,
smiles turn to derision
as you find out what you’re not ready to see?
Am I the weak chattel,
the baby lost without a rattle?
The savior’s gone and abandoned me.
Are you one more masked invader
in clothes of a crusader
putting things back to how they used to be?
My soul’s laid out,
showing for all to see.
My world’s in doubt:
I’ve been made blind to it all.
Can you see the disappointment
left underneath resentment?
Finally, I’ll show you what’s wrong with me.
Or with your two eyes seeing,
you’ve gone to leave me bleeding
to destroy all that’s left as me.
Sounds depressing, no? Back when I wrote this, I had just suffered an end to a very important relationship in my life. In the course of this relationship, I always felt as if I was doing everything wrong. I was insecure beyond belief. How dare I think someone could love me? Thoughts like that were drifting through my head as I emotionally navigated the month of September of 2004.
The same month, closure was given on another relationship I had. This was an ending to a friendship that soured mostly because of the same reasons the aforementioned relationship had. Topping that, I always felt, within this friendship, that I was under the scrutiny of someone psychoanalyzing me. It didn’t help that I had another friendship following the same course. Due to all of this, I wrote the above.
It was a figurative middle finger to the idea that something had to be wrong with me. I couldn’t be hurt. I couldn’t be sad. I couldn’t be weird. I had to have something emotionally and developmentally wrong with me. Back then, I wrote a poem about once a day, so it wasn’t that surprising that I came up with this one.
Why it sums my thoughts: I am a single woman. No, I’m not pursuing relationships. This isn’t because I don’t want one. It isn’t because I’m not attracted to anyone. It’s not even fear. I have a lot going, personally, that I want to fix. I want to be out of the majority of my self-inflected debt. I want to achieve some personal goals. I want to just feel competent in some areas of my life before I add a relationship to the mix.
Often, I field the question as to why I don’t have a boyfriend. I usually say that I don’t want to deal with the drama of a relationship. I’m not lying. I don’t. Sure, I miss having someone to hold and hold me. Sure, I miss feeling that connection one can only feel as you’re falling in love. But, I also like not having to check in with someone. I like flirting with no consequences.
Most importantly, and something I think people should learn more often: I’m comfortable with myself. I’m okay with being alone. I’m okay not having someone else. I can be happy without needing a relationship. I don’t need to define myself in terms of a relationship. And, honestly, people? There’s nothing wrong with that. There’s nothing wrong with being single. So, stop pitying me for it. Stop implying that I’m somehow not a complete human being because I don’t have a man attached to me.
I’m okay. If I meet someone I might be interested in, my tune might change. But, I’m not going to run around looking for my other half as if it’s all that matters. Because, loving myself and being okay with me? That matters a hell of a lot more. I can ditch someone if I don’t like them. If I don’t like me? There’s only one choice to get away from that.
The most integral parts of human relationships are respect and trust. So, respect that I’m okay in life. And trust that I know myself well enough to say that I’m happy even if you think I wouldn’t be.