This is about you.
Where do I fit into people. How do I factor into lives. I don't know what spaces I fit in, what niches I fill. For people, most people, I'm not important. For some people however, and it is not many, I've been given some measure of importance in their lives, and the scariest thought in the world is that I don't know why. One wrong step and I'll no longer be doing whatever it is they needed me for and then I'm gone. Or maybe they simply won't need it anymore.
I'm thinking about slipping away completely. Just leaving behind anyone and everyone for whom I don't know my niche, and with whoever's left try to make something. It would be lonely and it would be hard but it wouldn't be so insecure and it wouldn't be so scary. I'd rather be six feet under solid ground than twenty feet above it on a tower of sand, where even a slight tremor could send me tumbling down.
The worst part is that I might be right. Usually, in circumstances like these, the emotions in my mind can be restrained. I can logically understand that they're not true. But not anymore. I see more signs that it's true than ever. Measurable ways in which they all care for each other more than anyone could care about me. Even simple observations of the complex interactions of the people in my life often do show how little of a role I play in theirs. What am I for. What do you need me for.
You are someone special to me. You are someone important to me. You make me happy. It's getting less and less believable that you could say the same about me. Maybe you could, if asked, but even asking is too much pressure. I want you to already want to say it, and I don't know how to get to that point.
Do I only have friends because they all think I'm important to someone else? Am I only still invited because nobody bothered to check who actually wanted me there? What does it even matter. Maybe I should just enjoy the warmth and the music while it lasts, so when they finally come to their senses I can hum the notes in the cold, kicking stones across the asphalt, with finally nowhere to go.
That's nonsense. That's stupid. Why would that ever be true. Maybe to you it seems obvious. Maybe to you I have everything. But I am not you, and I do not see it. You sure as hell aren't acting like it's stupid. "Just talk to me more," you say, "I love talking to you," but then the hours go by. I think a lot about you, but even when I need it it seems as though I'm just an afterthought.
The way you speak to me doesn't help. Short, dismissive, aggressive. Maybe I'm just reading into it. But then again, it's not just you. Every time I go to have a conversation and get pushed out with barriers as impassible as small. You say "ok" and I feel a lump in my throat, "what" and my chest tightens up, ":/" and my head starts to spin. There's nothing I hate more than all the ways you dismiss me. Let me back into your life. I'm sorry that I stopped being whatever I was to you. I'm sorry I can't fill that niche for you anymore, but I still need you, now more than ever. Please stay. Please don't go.
Please don't go.
Please don't go.
Please don't go.
please dont go.
