Dear You Who Is Learning to Understand

Dear you who is learning to understand,

It's not about you.

It never really was.

True, your words (like knives) cut deep into my heart,

ripping it apart when I needed it mended.

But it wasn't really your fault.

How could I expect you 

To know

To understand

To hear

To feel what I was feeling?

No, it seems as though the fault is mine (yet again, my mind whispers darkly inside).

Never enough, always a bit too much or not quite enough,

good enough for second place or perhaps a participation ribbon,

but never good enough

to make anyone

stay.

You all leave eventually, anyways.

So why bother?

Why even try?

I know you'll all leave.

And though I know it isn't true, somewhere deep inside something whispers the

ominous words that it is

my fault.

It is 

me.

I

am the reason no one stays.

And yet I keep chasing people.

Because, you see, my heart cries out to be 

accepted,

loved,

valued.

And maybe this is because

deep down,

under all the masks I don to match any and every situation,

I

don't

really

like

myself.

Me. 

Who I am at my very core.

And that hurts, more than you'll ever know.

So maybe that's why I'm always so hesitant,

why I'm constantly asking (even if not vocally),

for reassurance that you do love me and aren't going to leave,

because I think if I were you, I wouldn't want to 

be

with

me.

So please be patient with me.

Be kind, 

and gracious.

Take the initiative - it means so much when you do that.

Gently and truthfully answer my questions (with your words and actions),

even if they are the same questions I asked you last week, yesterday, or even

an hour ago.

Give me time to learn that you are trustworthy.

So I guess it is about you.

But it's about me, too, and our connection.

It's about me learning to trust,

learning to let myself be loved.

But overall, it's really about me

learning 

to 

be 

free.

This poem is about: 
Me
Poetry Terms Demonstrated: 

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