you made me small.
no — correction. i let myself be small.
with the chip chip chipping at the surface
because it was, well hell, the surface doesn’t make me me.
my hobbies, my interests,
i can afford to change those
& cater those.
because to be with you, i can watch soccer
& lift weights because you want us to do it together.
then it was my time.
the lack of it – in terms of what was spared for me in a day
& the lack of consideration for it — in terms of keeping me available to your “unpredictable” schedule
[between the two of us: one who flies across the world in a day & the other who works a 6-3 job .. whose is really unpredictable?]
chip chip chipping at my value in time
how its used
how its sacrificed
how its taken freely
with no apologies
but its ok. because i cannot control time.. so i cant really quantify it as a part of me right?
so the essence of taking it from me.. its ok. it’ll be ok.
then it was what made me happy.
because in your head what makes you happy should make me happy as well
because finding two paths to the same destination is impossible to you.
mine is a road of solitude
yours is a loud, bustling, chaotic path
& you made me walk on yours.
chip chip chipping at the deeper inner parts of me
the parts that screamed how uncomfortable
how painful it was
but i let it go.
because in the end we want the same thing.
then you took a step back
& realized you chipped too much
here & there
the mass caved where it shouldnt
& curved where it should’ve remained straight
so you scrapped the whole fucking work.
i let myself be small for you.