chosen

 

You didn’t choose me.

But that’s okay.

I wouldn’t have chosen me, either.

I would have chosen you, to be sure.

But back then, I didn’t feel like I was ready.

And I was right.

But I still think about you.

Why do I think about you?

That can’t be healthy after this much time has passed.

Maybe it’s just because the other people I tried thinking about never thought back.

You see, back then, you thought back.

At least for a while.

You didn’t choose me, but you were the only person who ever really did choose me.

I wouldn’t have chosen me.

I guess maybe that’s why nobody else has chosen me since then.

But I’m getting better at being chosen.

I’m starting to understand more now of who I am, and who I am becoming. 

And I know that I can love someone.

I know that I can hold someone up, and hold someone close.

I know that, for all my faults, I am suitable to be chosen.

But I’m not sure I would have figured that out if you had not already chosen me.

But you didn’t choose me.

I remember playing with your hair one evening.

I didn’t ask first.

I felt safe.

You closed your eyes and breathed slowly.

I remember feeling like I could have kissed you.

I remember not regretting that I didn’t.

I wasn’t ready.

And you deserve a better chooser for your chosen.

But now my arms always feel empty, because you filled them up just so perfectly.

I guess maybe you’re just generous.

Your generosity used to confuse me.

I liked it when you chose me, but you would choose everybody else just as much.

And I didn’t understand that kind of choosing.

And I felt so alone when we didn’t choose each other.

But now I need to stop choosing you.

I will always remember that you did choose me.

You kept on choosing even when it was time to choose somebody else.

And maybe that’s what it means to love somebody.

It’s not healthy to try to keep on choosing you in other people.

They aren’t you, and that’s okay.

It just means that I’m still learning to be chosen.

I’m still learning to let someone else choose me.

And maybe that someone is still learning to choose me, too.

Or maybe I’ll die alone.

But it’s okay to let go.

The fear I felt before is how I knew that you loved me.

You hugged me and didn’t let go, until the fear went away.

And if I let go now, I guess maybe I might be afraid again.

But that’s okay.

How can I learn to be chosen if I don’t want to let anyone choose me?

How can somebody love the fear away again if I am too busy fearing the love away?

How can I love somebody else if I am still trying to love you?

I do love you.

And that’s why I’m choosing to let go. 

 

November 12, 2017