Sarah Nyhan

Growing up is realizing you were chasing a feeling more than you might have been chasing the actual person. Then deciding to maybe now do differently. If happiness and contentment are my responsibility. Versus some miracle Jesus will apparently let me go my whole damn life holding my breath for.

Not that I am complaining now. After going through it. After doing the hard work. Of facing “reality” – whatever that is, anyway. Only as far as I can tell; most likely my perception full of flaws. 

But we only live in our perception. So what other choice do I have? Who has paid the dues to be the judge of people’s perceptions? The people with licenses that I know have as many problems as me.

So we’re back here. Just standing around with our perceptions. And our feelings. And the lack, great big lack of what we want. 

Everyone else’s problem? 
God’s problem? 

Seems like only my problem to fix. By hell or high water. If there’s happiness out there to be had. If there’s real Life. Real Love. 

Gotta actually try. Not just play it safe enough to skate by. Not just the same ol’ tired excuses. 

Gotta admit what is. That for whatever reasons we crossed paths. But I don’t think we are each other’s final destination. Not like things are now. 

I wish we were friends. But you’ve broken my heart too many times for us to ever be lovers. I don’t think I’ll ever trust you again. Not at this point. There are just some lines you don’t cross. You can’t cross. Human respect. Decency. 

You’re playing games. And I never did. I was never on that fuck shit. You still a kid. Still immature. On that bullshit – just sick happiness at getting a reaction outta me. 

You’re gonna miss out on a real one. I’m not done. I’m just getting started. I been working my ass off. If you shit on me at my worst then you don’t deserve me at my best.

That’s the hardest. Seeing your potential but having to say goodbye. Because I can’t keep abandoning myself while waiting around for you to catch up.

Hey, it’s working for you, right? You’re happy, right? You have everything you want, right? I’m just the fool, right? Especially to speak on things, eh?

We’ll see, we’ll see. Time ain’t up yet. Not entirely.

I could give a shit less in terms of competition. I just know the time has already and long since been where I should have said goodbye. And I’ve all but died trying to avoid leaving you behind. 

But you keep on insisting. You are so determined. 

I should give you what you want, right? What your actions keep telling me you want. 

I should save myself. Give myself all I wanted to give you. 

Not as a threat, babe. Just facts. Just cold hard facts. I wouldn’t say this if it wasn’t already done. I wouldn’t dare speak this boldly if you gave me even a shred of any hope to work with. 

This is what people want. They want you to leave them alone. They don’t want to face their toxicity. They don’t want to deal with their fears. They don’t want to admit their regrets. They don’t even see them that way. It’s easier to blame everyone else. Except the real actors in your narrative. 

It’s easier to get mad at the person in front of you than do the real work to dig deep and figure out where it started. Then you’d have to grieve. Then you’d risk looking like me after where I’ve been.

Then you wouldn’t be able to keep up the surface-level relationships that admittedly keep you afloat. Not really knocking you for that. It might be easier on the whole. Certainly there’s company, right? 

I’m not sure I’ve made the better choice. I have to think about that all day every day. Honestly. 

All I know is I’m a real one. I’m a down-ass bitch. 

But I need to finally ride for myself for once. Before I ever ride as hard for all y’all as I did before.

Not out of hate. Just necessity. Look at me. More than obvious.