Craving To Be Seen

No one paid me any attention. No one noticed me.

It hurt.

Put nasty coils and engine oil in my gut. Threatened to make me cry.

I kept going anyway.

 

Who cares if no one saw me?

I cared. But I didn’t want to.

I mattered to me.

Others mattered to me and I showed it.

Why couldn’t I garner such a response?

I kept going anyway.

 

It continued to burn at the back of my throat.

Made my feet heavy.

Almost as if what I did didn’t matter.

It might float away. No weight to it at all. Maybe it did.

 

But I squeezed my eyes shut and refused to feel jealous.

I did not like that feeling one bit.

It was disgusting to me.

Bacon grease mixing with gutter water.

I refused it. Wouldn’t touch it.

 

I did my thing.

Buried my tears.

Held a plushy to my chest and didn’t care that it was childlike.

One part of myself I never cared for approval of.

 

I pretended I didn’t care.

Until I didn’t, really.

I did my thing because I chose to see me.

I did my thing because I enjoyed it. Loved it. Wanted it in my life.

I did my thing because I wanted you to smile.

I mean, I’d always wanted you to smile. But I let go of the importance I attached to your noticing me.

Just had fun. Gave what I had.

That’s when you noticed me.

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