You never call when you should and I never sleep when I should. Our inability to follow norms complements because when my phone vibrates at 2am, I know it’s you and you know I’m awake.
Before I can mutter a tired hello, I am greeted by the sound of your tears. Instantly I am on edge, because when you cry, a piece of my heart dies. You sob and you sob, and I am breaking on my end, thinking of ways to fix you, heal you because that’s what friends do. I ask you the useless questions of are you okay? what’s wrong? but we both know the answers to such questions, we both know why you are crying, we both know it’s because of him.
Doesn’t this tire you, this routine of self-destruction? He does something or rather nothing, you bear and bear until you crack. You cry and cry until you’ve washed away your built up frustration. You empty yourself from momentary sadness and then lie to yourself and U-turn right back in his direction.
Love isn’t supposed to hurt, not like this anyway. He isn’t a variable of pain; no, he is a constant assembly line of sorrow.
Stephen Chbosky spoke no truer words when he said, we accept the love we think we deserve. Has your self-worth really degraded this much? You retort, you reply, you cry: but I’m being the brave girl you told me to be, I’m being the girl who went after what she wanted. By all means, be her. But your wants are misguided. Your objectives aren’t high enough, your standards aren’t at par.
Because when I said, be the brave girl, I implied be a smart, brave girl. Respect yourself enough to know the recipient of your chase should be fucking worth your time. Write your happily ever after with someone who makes you laugh more often than cry. Because everyone will make you cry and hurt you, but the key is finding someone who will give you more sunshine than rain. We get enough of the latter in this city anyway.
I couldn’t tell you this on the phone, I couldn’t catch a pause in your sobs so I’m writing it here instead. The boy you deserve will open doors, literally and figuratively. He will have the grace and charm of a mature adult and not the idiocy of a horny child. He will teach you new things, new bands to discover, new books to read. He will speak with actual words and not the lingo of a disenfranchised boy whose pants are too low. His pants will be on properly, he will wear actual clothing. He will know what common decency is. He will drive you even when you don’t ask, and if he doesn’t have a car, he’ll be your companion on a late night commute back home. He won’t text a meager few words every few weeks, his conversations will be grammatically correct and far more frequent. In fact, he will call because he isn’t a coward who hides behind the accessibility of technology. He will make the effort to call because he will want to hear your voice, a voice that is sweet and melodious like the nightingale. He will be sweet, he will be kind, but he won’t be perfect. He will be awkward at times, but in the adorable sense. He will be shy but only because he likes you that much. And he won’t just like you, he will love you, and actually mean it.
Listen to me when I say, you deserve such a boy. All you must do is believe it and have the courage to fix the status quo and throw out the trash for once. Stop settling, stop accepting and start expecting. Expect someone better, someone worthy of a girl like you. Trust me when I say, you’re worth the adoration, you’re worth it.