No one ever told me about boys like you.

I used to be better at this, maybe I just had more patience. When we first me I could always tell when something was wrong, and even better, I always knew how to fix it, or at least how to make him feel better. Maybe I was the one that got impatient, but I don't think that after all this time, it should still take me multiple hours to get him to talk to me. I think that after all this time, he should be able to open up to me just a bit more, be able to talk to me, just a bit easier.

Or at least I wish that was the case. When he looks so upset, and feels so far away, I want to be far away. I've been told before that's not what he wants, but what he says and what it feels like are two very different things. And for someone like me, I have always trusted the way I feel, a lot more than any words that could spill out of another person's mouth.

But still, it feels really bad knowing that someone you love is in pain, and that there is nothing you can do about it. Nothing, because they don't feel like they can talk to you, and nothing, because if you can't tell me whats wrong, even a little, or whats bothering you, then I don't know how to help. I'm rendered useless.

Its a really empty space here, just sitting and waiting for something to happen, waiting for some kind of clue, some kind of anything, that could give me the go ahead.


I remember this one day, when I was little. Really little, I was still in elementary, the first elementary i had ever been to, and for anyone that knows how much my mom likes to move, that's saying a lot.
I don't remember much, just that it was very very cold out. It was long after school, long since everyone had gone home, even most of the teachers. I think it was getting late, it was getting dark. But I stood there patiently outside of my deserted school, because it was Wednesday.

This Wednesday, was the Wednesday I got to see my dad, the first time he had ever been allowed to pick me up from school. I didn't care that it was cold, or getting dark, or even that standing there felt so lonely, I just waiting, with a sick hopefulness rising up inside of me whenever a car drove past.

This was also the Wednesday, that my dad forgot about me. My mom picked me up that day, she had to run out of work, once she had found out. I remember she looked so angry, that I didn't even ask, why she was here, and Dad wasn't.

But Dad forgot. Just like that. Sometimes I wonder if he really did forget, or if he chose to. Is it so easy to forget your only daughter at school? Not only that, but he fought so hard for that right, I remember all the days mom was busy in court, because Dad was fighting, paying a lawyer and fighting in court, just so he could pick me up at school every other Wednesday.

And after all of that, after all he went through, he just forgot.
Was I just a toy that he used, in the midst of their divorce?
A prop perhaps, something, anything that could be used against my mother?


When I think about that, and then think about this, the feeling is the same. It feels empty and cold and lonely. And it makes me want to just go away. I know its not right, but I can't always help how I feel.

But I think my patience, is slowly running dry, and I'm scared of how little I might have left, because something is telling me that its not quite enough to get through this.