The Shattered Vase

The day I first saw you, I thought, “Wow, how beautiful.”

And that night my confused young  heart cried

Because I knew you would never notice me.

They call it a crush, because it doesn’t just break your heart,

It shatters it, as if the four chambers and all their valves and ventricles

Are pieces of a fragile vase, that the dog accidentally knocked over onto the floor.

 

I have since learned that I only want what I cannot have.

 

The day we became friends,

My slightly less confused but still vulnerable heart felt so much joy

Because finally I could love you in a way that wouldn’t break me.

And when I loved you like this, almost immediately,

No more crush. No more shattered heart.

 

Maybe because I’m shy, or maybe just messed-up,

But my relationships with people had always been tainted with confusion. 

They aren’t now, but back then, I went through the beginnings of my teenage life

Not understanding a single thing about what was going on, or what I felt.

I wasn’t confused about you, or me, or us. 

You were mine, and that always meant friend, safe person.

 

The psychologist said that I was afraid of people leaving me.

That I was afraid of saying, “I need you,” to anyone.

And so I pushed people away.

Because as long as I had people I would need them.

I hated needing, hated the feeling that I was not enough on my own

While simultaneously feeling like there was too much of me.

The more I pushed people away, the more I desperately craved them.

 

I wanted validation. Affection from people.

Not attention, because that implies scrutiny, and I hate being scrutinized.

 More of something that said, “You are worthy and deserving of my love and care.” 

 

I was scared, as I am now, that I would lose that something.

For the most part, my worries have proved in vain. People have not left.

But you have. You’re still here, but you’ve left, which is even harder.

You don’t even realize you’re gone.

You think I am all grown up, and I don’t need you anymore.

Well, I do. I need you and I hate every moment of that need.

Because I feel invalidated.  I feel unworthy. And then I feel stupid, because of course that’s not true.

But I want it anyway. And then I feel horrible and selfish. Maybe I am.

But, “I need you. I need you. I need you.”

 

When I dreamed of this, I imagined consistency.

I imagined that I would be important to you.

I am your hello in the hallways.

I am your occasional text message conversation.

 

It would hurt less if you were trying to hurt me.

It’s easy to push away people when they are trying to hurt you.

But see, that’s the thing. You love me. I can’t push that away.

Whatever we do have, it’s better than nothing at all.

 

It would hurt less if you did this to everyone.

But no, you have your people. And I do not seem to be one of them.

But of course, I still am. Of course, I’m being stupid.

We have our thing. We have our friendship. And isn’t it wonderful?

Then why do I feel like I am

Only a second-class citizen in your world?

 

The thing that makes me feel so selfish about all of this,

Is that you are so happy. You have everything,

All that you could ever want.

You have all of these things and how could you possibly need me?

I don’t have any of it and how could I possibly not need you?

 

This letter isn’t supposed to make you change anything. I’m fine with things the way they are.

This letter is to let you know how I feel about it. So I’m not lying anymore.

But the scary thing is, I don’t think things will change.

I know if I died, you would miss me and you would cry.

But don’t worry. I would never kill myself over my own selfish invalidated feelings.

 

But if we didn’t have whatever we do have,

If I wasn’t your hello and your occasional text

Would you miss it? Would you try to get it back?

Would you need it? Or would the others be enough for you, so you didn’t need me?

Would I be another forgotten one?

Don’t worry. I won’t play hard to get.

Partially because it’s not in my nature, but mostly because I’m afraid you wouldn’t try to come after me.

 

I’m afraid you wouldn’t even notice.

You have everyone you need in your world.

There is no room for me.

 

You gave me so much in the beginning, and all I wanted to do was return the favor.

I watched you need things, and go somewhere else to find them.

I was always there. I’m always here.

 

You should know that this is not a good-bye poem.

I will still be all those things that I try to be for you.

I will still try to contact you, and pretend it doesn’t hurt when you don’t answer.

When the darkness comes, I will still be there, just like before.

I want you to know I’m not going anywhere.

 

But people say that when you feel something, you shouldn’t keep it inside.

You should say it.

I tried, God I did. But a crowded hallway is not the place, and a text message is not the medium,

And our time alone felt too precious to spoil.

 

You said once you liked poems because they showed that the person spent time thinking about the subject.

Well here. Have this poem.

The time spent on this is only a fraction of the time I spent thinking about you.

 

So I’m sorry, if I need more than you have to give. I’m sorry, if there’s not enough room for me.

I’m sorry, I know, I’m being stupid. But I think that my feelings have validation.

 I think it’s time you knew

The vase is falling.

Catch it, if you so desire. Place it back on the table and be gentle.

Pick it up when it falls and breaks and spend hours gluing it together again.

Sweep up the shattered pieces and throw them in the garbage, because it was never that pretty anyway.

I am shattering.