She was full of life with a hunger for adventure.
Everyday she traveled to the ends of the earth to bring you back all of the happiness that you needed to sooth your racing soul.
But no matter how treacherous the journey, she always persisted, she would never let you down.
But as each day passed, each journey got harder and each time she returned, more exhausted than before and the happiness and joy that she wanted to share with you was never good enough - no matter how hard she tried.
Each song that she sang you, you thought was off key
Each dress she was proud of, you were less than impressed
Each smile was never quite bright enough
Stomach not flat enough, hair not soft enough, kisses not sweet enough, each blink not quick enough, each breath not shallow enough.
Her mind was never sharp enough to keep up with your greatness.
Because you were royalty, the ruler or all, controller of time. But that is only how you saw yourself. The rest saw you as a crazed puppeteer trying to control the uncontrollable.
Which is quite the feat, but you cracked the code.
How do you control the uncontrollable?
You break what isn’t meant to be broken until the point of being unfixable. But you fix them and break them like a record on repeat.
Showing them that you are the only one who can fix it, but like god you can take it away
So the girls who dreamt about falling in love walk on eggshells each day as to not mess things up.
To spare themselves from the verbal berating of
“i’m the only one who will ever care”
“no one will ever love you like i do”
and the best of them all
“no matter how hard you try, you are and will never be good enough.”
When a lie is told too many times you believe it to be true.
Forever the ball and chain on their ankle keeping them grounded when the winds of someone new would come by.
Because who wants a girl who is damaged? Who wants to spending the time cleaning up this mess?
The instructions are shredded and in a language I don’t understand.
People come and they go, fixing and tweaking, leaving and taking parts along the way.
Forever a mismatch, an unmatched sock that you just throw out.
It’s just her and the chain holding her down to the ground.
She just sits there and waits because she knows she is good enough, smart enough, kind enough.
But she knows, if she is patient, there will be someone who can help her understand her unreadable instructions.