Accept: Poetic Prose #83

Accept.

Man, I hate acceptance.

Accept that I have to let it go.

I have to let them go.

I have to let her go.

I have to let go of the dreams I had.

The dreams that kept 13-year-old me alive.

I wanted to be married, by now.

I wanted to have my first baby in my arms, by now.

I wish I could ignore this pain.

I wish I wanted to numb it.

Make it go away.

But that’s not who I am. And that’s not who I choose to be.

That doesn’t make it hurt any less.

But it reminds me of why I’m on this path.

Sometimes, I wonder. If I was different, would they have loved me back?

Would they have stayed? Would that have kept them from abandoning me?

If I held them to a lower standard? If I had pushed away all my emotions…

I think of it. And it makes me wonder. And makes me sick shortly after.

Because that’s not who I am. And that’s not my story. Not anymore.

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