The end result of talking to someone who has their read receipts on is the nagging feeling that whatever you said was not worthy of a response.

Your message is just one of many unanswered notifications that when added together equal a red bubble on a screen that gets ignored and forgotten.

Regardless of the meaning behind it - you feel ignored and forgotten.

So why do you still try.

Each message you send is like an arrow shot with no ending destination hoping to land near something that resembles some sense of stability before shooter loses their balance.

Each moment between messages drags longer and longer while think, “please turn from delivered to read”

You know they’re just busy.

So you wait a few hours, no response in sight. So, like a fool, you cast out a new arrow, as if you have an endless supply.

And you watch within minutes their name hits the screen, because your existence is remembered. So you quickly respond as to hold their attention that you have been craving all day. But that’s all you are going to get.

Because as much as you want to think you are someone special

You’re just a blip. Nothing more than a name on a screen that just gets swiped away. Just a number in a little red bubble waiting to be remembered.

The end of the day is the worst because you’re caught at a cross road - go home to the mundane or get in your car and forget it all.

Sit in the car until the windows fog up so the people passing by cannot see the stains of the tears that run down from those tired eyes because all of this - it’s all getting old.

But you sit, waiting for the car to be cold enough for you to finally feel numb to everything that stands on the other side of the fogged windshield.

Feeling every emotion so intensely.

Your heart beat pounding in your ears - so quick and loud that you think this time it may actually stop.

Calm Down.

Hold back the *****; the poison trying to escape from your body because your brain is telling you it is toxic.

These bones ache from the gravity of the unnecessary weight being carried. Holding up everyone else as if they were more important that yourself.

Bones can easily break and turn to dust under the pressure but the world won’t fall.

The weight of the world does not need to be carried by one person alone.

That burden is meant to be shared, to stand stand together and support each other when needed.

It is a give and take, not a solo act.

Remember, you are not Atlas. You are not condemned to carry the weight of the world on your shoulders.

Everywhere i go I pass by a memory that went from sweet to sour.

I drive by the house where I first met you.

I try to avoid the street that you live on, where i spent every weekend falling in love -- but it’s on my way to work and unavoidable.

I pass by the park where you told me that you couldn’t promise you wouldn’t hurt me but you would try your best not to.

I don’t go to the movies on Saturday mornings - because we used to do that- and i don’t think my heart can handle seeing you there with another.

I walk by the fishing pole in my garage that you got me so we could do something that you liked to do- together.

I won’t use the blanket from Mexico because the warmth reminds me of being in your arms on the last night of our trip, after I told you I loved you - for the first time

I can’t bring myself to throw out your hoodie or sweatshirt -- because, maybe, you’ll ask for them -- even though i know you won’t.

I can’t go anywhere in this town without first thinking “i hope he isn’t here, and if he is, i hope she isn’t with him”

I stare at the box you hand carved me because you wanted to make sure I knew that I was special - i want to get rid of it - but never will.

I think about how you have the photos of us in the box in your closet because you said you would never forget about me or throw them out.

I can’t even say your name anymore.

How can I move on when there are reminders of you EVERYWHERE?

But
you have already moved on from me.

It’s 2020 and dating is a joke.

Dating is no longer about trying to get to know who someone is.

It boils down to left or right

hot or not

Society has made dating so hyper-focused on the physical that us women are left wondering if we will EVER be more than just a body.

Whether we are worthy enough to be seen again.

And because of this burning desire to be wanted- we do what we think we are meant to do- we put out.

But we are starting to get scared of all the hauntings caused by the ghosts who have never replied.

Stacks of empty promises of “I want to see you again” or “i’ll see you soon” becoming almost so unbalanced they might just fall.

But they wont

Because somehow the higher they stack, the easier it is to pretend it isn’t there.

To pretend it doesn’t bother us

Our dwindling self-worth held up by the hopes that maybe, just maybe, this time will be different.

So we endlessly swipe through strangers near and maybe far.

Waiting for that mutual attraction.

But how many swipes will it take for our hearts to feel full.

For us to stop feeling like we are incapable of being more than what they see us for.

Because as human beings we are extremely impatient.

Stop Looking.

I held on so tightly, white knuckled , until it felt like it was impossible to let go.

And everyday I thought it was getting better but in the back of my mind my fingers were starting to cramp.

Eight months is too long to hold on to what could have been, what should have been, what isn’t.

The phone will not ring anymore, my screen will not light up reading your name.

The empty promise of you always being there can finally be laid to rest.

Because I don’t need it.

It’s time to relax my tired hands because it’s been too long since I have reached out. for something new

You know when you are driving home at night and you zone out for what feel like a millisecond
but all of a sudden you’re one turn away from home and your first thought is, “wait, how am i here already?”

Somehow safely zoned out, yet still being able to control a vehicle.

But your mind -- in limbo -- between real & subconscious.

A minute or so of serenity.

Clarity, if just for a moment.

A frozen path to happiness.

What’s really interesting though, are the driveway thoughts.

“I don’t want to go through that door.”

Why?

Because going inside means that today is over and if today is over then tomorrow is coming and if tomorrow is coming then i have to do this again and I don’t want to do this again.

Going through all of the motions like I know what I’m doing.

I don’t.

I’ve been playing a part for years so no one will suspect how close i am getting to giving up.

Lungs, ya know, they get tired.

Makes you think -- if we didn’t breathe subconsciously, would i do it myself?

Home

Typically walls and a roof.

Built upon a foundation of love and trust.

The love of the people you let in to your life.

And the trust of knowing that even if you begin to crumble, something will catch you before you get close to hitting the ground.

Often times though, home isn’t found in the walls.

It is found in the slight glimmer in her eyes as she begins to crack a smile.

When you don’t hear her make a sound on the other end of the line because she is laughing so hard.

It is found in the completely comfortable silence during the lull of endless free flowing conversations.

It is just knowing that for a moment in time, someone was thinking about you.

And it is within that scary realization, that you finally notice --

that when you think of them

it feels like

home.