Do Tell Me

 Do Tell Me

By: Megan

I lay alone, yet again, waiting for someone to respond.

My heart is crushed when all I get is an email from a subscription I don’t even want.

I feel lost and confused.

“Why isn’t anyone texting back?”

“Am I not cool enough for them?”

“Is it not worth it to them?”

My body craves validation and soaks it up in any way possible.

At the end of a long day, all I want to hear is “Megan, you’re really funny.”

Or “Megan, I enjoyed talking to you today.”

Anything, really, would work.

But instead I get silence.

I get waves of emotions flooding my core.

I get paralyzing fear that “maybe they don’t like me anymore.”

Feeling more worthless by the minute.

My anxiety picks up on a rampage.

“I’m not good enough.”

“I’m not smart enough.”

“I’m not pretty enough.”

It’s funny because during the day I am on a high.

“I am beautiful!”

“I am the best person to ever exist!”

“I am freaking hot and gorgeous, everyone is gonna fall for me!”

But at night…

At night, the script is flipped.

During the day, people’s responses do not affect me.

I know everyone is working and I keep to myself.

Each day I build myself up and think “I’m actually getting better.”

But at night everyone is at home.

Each with an equal opportunity to reply,

but it never comes.

And it never will come because I am not the center of anyone’s life.

I am not all anyone ever thinks about.

Everyone has another person that they want to talk to or want to be with. 

I do not get the privilege of being first choice.

I am a “Well they are not texting back, so I’ll text Megan.”

Or a “I’m kinda bored. Time to text Megan!”

A second thought.

Well, my first thought is always and will always be my 11 friends.

All equally unequal.

I have my three best friends.

The ones I would die for, but they may or may not die for me?

They all have someone else who is their best friend or their ride or die.

I have my eight other friends.

The ones that I talk to regularly.

I would die for them, but “is there actually anyone who would die for me?”

Everyone is equal, but also in a group.

I would take a bullet for any person on this planet, simply because they could have someone else who texts them at night because when else would they text them?

Someone cares enough for them.

I don’t really know who cares enough for me.

No one cares enough to send me those validation texts that I survive off of.

Or to show me extra love when they know I’ve had a hard day.

I know it’s extra work and I know it’s not easy,

But those “I love yous” and “you’re doing a great job” means the world to me.

So do tell me before it’s too late.

Before I become so lost in reality that it stings to even talk.

Before I become a blockade for someone else’s bullet.

Before I become someone else’s world.