a crack in the sidewalk

I was always the one missing someone. But never the one being missed. I spent years of my adolescence, trusting and giving my all, to these people who didn’t necessarily deserve my attention or dedication. I wanted so badly for someone to crave my presence, that I wasn’t present in my own head.

I let desperate thoughts take over and I let these broken people in, because I believed fixing their shattered pieces, and letting them do whatever they wished with me, would make them care for me.

I learned quickly that people like that don’t care. They think they do, and they genuinely believe that they will be a good friend to you. But when broken people came across this stray soul of mine, the one that wanted to make everyone feel happier, they would take and take until I shriveled up into a crack in the sidewalk.

I thought this would be okay. I thought hiding in that miserable crack in the sidewalk meant I would be untouched. Because as I child I was told not to walk all over the cracks in the sidewalk, and I thought others would do the same.

What I didn’t realize until it was too late, was that these people got over their childhood fears, a little easier than I got over mine.