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I am your missed connection -w4m 25

8 Years Ago




I was never raised to hug, to love, to know. Some of us were only meant to be masters of our craft. We were told not to sleep too long, not to blink too much, and never hold back a breath.

But here I am. I fell out of the race, and the world is foreign to me. There are people everywhere, with somewhere to go. The brilliance and curiousity left my face. I returned to doubt, to fear. Now I, the expected one, with perfect academic scores, the golden child, has lost herself.

Thus when you see me, when you meet me, you will miss the connection. I am the transparent being. My face is consistently unreadable. Heads turn for a fleeting moment, but no contact is made.

I've read too many books.
I've run too many races.
I played too much music.
I aimed for perfection.

I ran away to another country. I wasn't sure I'd live through it. My stomach was rife with disease. No one knew where I was, when I'd be back.

When I returned, I saw a world that didn't know me. I have never been in a relationship, I have never dated anyone. When I leave, letters of love follow, but when I am around, I am invisible.

Our bodies are shells. Decaying tributes to our former selves.