Skip to main content

So, thank you

I wish you could have met me when I was happier.
You might have loved me then.
And I don't know why I say "then" like its a time in my existence that I could pinpoint
Because I can't.
And you didn't.

You found me in the exact moment in time when I was
Begging not to be found,
In this headspace where I was praying not to be seen,
And you saw me.

You pulled off my armor with such grace and
Effortless intention,
Until I was standing there right in front of you.
Completely naked,
But comfortably.

My mind was not ready to be this vulnerable, but my heart was so damn
Comfortable.

I was supposed to know better by now.
I have taught myself to be afraid of men.
Men have repeatedly taught me to be afraid of men.
But I was not afraid of you.
I am not afraid of you.

I have been telling myself over and over again that I am too raw to be touched.

My heart never fucking listens to me.
But you did.


Comments

Popular posts from this blog

"We are sorry, you did not match to any position."

For the very first time today I can finally say that I understand   Passive suicidal ideation. An abstract symptomatology   Now clear as day As I sit here wishing that I wasn’t Trying to scream for help But unable to catch enough air to do so. It took me over 57 hours   To admit to my parents that my lifelong dream, My 3 degrees and now almost 4, Those 9 straight years of missing out, And half a million dollars of student debt Has all surmounted to nothing. I have been in this constant cycle   Of holding my breath Waiting to exhale while I   Work, and wait, and hope That everything I have done and endured and accomplished Would in someone else’s universe   Be enough. I am adaptable, compassionate, and resilient. My hands are warm. They are steady. And they are talented. I am an unrelenting advocate for my patients and my peers and for wellness. I have given every ounce of myself to   Every single team I have ever been apart of And it seems that I have ...

Thank you, Dr. Franklin.

At the recommendation of my counselor and the request of my dear friend, Cindy, I have been tasked to write about you. Yet, I have been sitting here for days. I have been trying to figure out what to say, trying to muster up the strength to sit face to face with this grief and carry the weight of this heavy heart. How do I come to terms with the fact that there is absolutely no possible way to put into words -- words that you will now never get to hear -- exactly what and how much you mean to me? But you, Dr. Franklin, would simply not stand for hesitancy, for stagnation. And I can almost guarantee that you would not want the tears. You would expect and demand action. So while I can't promise you that it will be as pretty as the sutures you taught me to throw or as clean as the gallbladder fossa s/p lap chole, here I am and I am moving. 

Empty

I feel so empty here. I thought that I would find my place but All that I have now is space, so empty. Floating in the background of everyone else's lives only to be Called to the front when they need something from me. When there is something they need to take and yet Every single time I give it all away so easily. Without hesitation, I give you a piece Breaking off a piece of my soul that I keep trading as a bargaining chip That I'm hoping you'll take to accept me. But you never even wanted me in the first place. I was only brought here to take up space. My existence is only of interest because thrifting has become a fad. And second-hand goods now make you look trendy. So use me up to make yourself feel more desirable. And return me to this empty space when you're done, leaving me Stale. And musty. Don't worry. I'll clean myself up as usual.