Nobody ever tells you how lonely it is to grow up. Dreams become what may have been and the friendships you swore would last forever have dribbled into coffee dates once every three years. All the passion for adventure is tempered by the reality of responsibility until years have flown by and that spring break banger never happened. You exchange tequila for rosé and the woos over loud bass for a gentle conversation to soft jazz. It all looks so glamorous to those who aren’t yet there, but you can’t go back once the longing sets in. Everything just gets lost in the noise. I am becoming lost in the noise.
I lay here wondering what I dreamed for my life as a little girl–surely not this. We were going to change the world. My partner would be kind, gentle, and fun as well as handsome and charming. I wonder when I let the fairytales go. A part of me still yearns for it, but the realist in me stomps at the coals of the fire in a desperate attempt to stop being disappointed. Love is such a loaded word, meant to stave off the loneliness, yet it seems like all it does is dress it up in that pretty mask of noise.
I spent the week away pondering.
You. Me. Life.
It’s heard to breathe when I am caught in the hurricane of you, let alone understand that I was drowning. This time I understood it wasn’t my fault that you were forcing me under, but it was my fault that I had stopped fighting. You fight for me, but not with me because you would rather just walk out the door. Next time I wont stop you, because the ache in my heart when you leave is growing dimmer with every piece of blame you’ve piled on.
I deserve more. I spent the week away, learning how not to miss you.
I’ll still be that sweet girl you love, but it’s time you learned how to coax the syrup from a lady rather than drinking her dry. In an age of easy loving, I led you to believe I did not need to be wooed. I got too used to picking myself the flowers I love so much. Never could I imagine the dull ache a droopy set of wildflowers could eventually bring. Now the chill of fall allows us to recess into our lonely households to wait out the winter with mediocre love until the passion of summer can awaken our fires again.
But for now, I’m tired, so learn to love me right or leave me alone.
The more I say those three words, the more I mean it.
Little girl, little girl come out to play. I see that you crept under the bed last night to hide from the monster that came. It’s dark and quiet and peaceful under all of those layers, but, my sweet girl, you will grow lonely there away from the world. Even the princess in her stately mansion longs for the sunshine.
Little girl, little girl listen to the night. There are fireflies and gentle rains to lift your tired soul. Never mind what the world calls for from you and melt into dreamless sleep. My darling, I know how fast dreams turn to nightmares and how your mind is plagued by the unknown. Find comfort in the arms of elders and friends and be at peace.
Little girl, little girl never forget what you are. You were born under signs of fire with passion filling those little veins. Made stronger with every step off the floor where he put you yet, you my love, remain a kind and gentle soul. You are never weaker alone.
Little girl you are a lion walking among house cats that have forgotten their size. Remember yours.