To You/Finally clearing some things up/poem/rant

{ I wrote this two days ago at 3 AM when there was “scheduled maintenance down time” on here. So I couldn’t post it right away. My posting this now is still quite a shock to me, as I’ve pretty much lost all never since then. Also, it’ll probably have no effect, since it's pretty clear that she's not on here anymore. I have yet to accumulate the proverbial guts to talk to her/send this to her directly. }


I was stalking posts again, and realized it’s con-time in some people’s worlds.
That got me
to thinking…
and semi-crying.

This is for you, /



I’m going to take
and humongous step.
A ‘jump,’
if you will.
See, it’s time to soundly clear some things up.

I hate false fronts
and those tiny bees that aren’t really bees.
I hate when I feel used,
abused and left on the curb.
Oh,
and I hate most, if not all, girl ‘bands’.

Did I mention I’m sorry?

I’m pretty sure I did,
countless times,
and yet it seems you’ve chosen to ignore.
I’m still sort of mad,
but when am I not?
And, really, it is justifiable,
but apparently still not good enough.

Did I mention it wasn’t how it seemed?

I could have sworn I did,
but when I hear the story
from people who heard it from people
who heard it from people…
it’s like playing ‘Telephone,’
and I was never very good at that game.

Did I mention, or even hint, at what really happened?

I think I might have hinted,
but see? Being bold was never really my strong suit.
I tend to skirt around issues in poems/rants.
Issues like feeling abandoned.
Like how I felt abandoned for some number of days
when you and your chums would leave me
in your common-room-type-dealie
and not come back.
Issues of misplaced anger,
because it happened every single day in high school
and I had convinced myself I would never let it happen again.
I gave up.
I gave up on you and your friends abandoning me.
Now, see, I don’t even really know what happened on your end,
but that one day you were half and hour late,
I sighed and left for good.
I was going to be late for my Women’s Studies class,
and we couldn’t have that.
But I skirted around the issue
and slowly cut you out
and now I regret it so so much.
But, see, I was so fed up
with high school-like situations.

Did I mention that I wouldn’t mind making up?

I thought I had,
but my pleas seem to have gone unnoticed and,
even though it feels like
the more I apologize for it, the more I say it,
that I’m apologizing for something I shouldn’t be
apologizing for.
But, see? Notice,
I keep trying.

Did I mention how much it hurts, to see/hear/read you discussing things only we used to discuss?

I’m not sure if I’ve said it loudly enough.

Did I mention that, even though my mind is confused as to who was/is in the wrong, I still tend to get chocked up/teary eyed/cry when I see you not involving me or...trying?

I don’t think I have.

How many times must I say it?
It was my fault.
It was me being stupid.
(As per usual).
And I’m so goddamned sorry about it
that I’m not able to be sorry about
anything else.

I’m using up far too much time
and energy
and tears
on apologizing and admitting defeat/fault
when you won’t even bother to look up
from your newest graphic novel.

Did you know that this started off as a poem/rant about how angry I was, and how all that anger was directed at you?

‘Cause it’s not anymore,
and if you’d care to notice,
it’s me I’m angry at now

and yet you still don’t seem to care.

I’m
still
sorry.