"Worthy of More," or "Ni**as Ain't Shit" - Its a Working Title
This piece was written on June 22, 2020 about a fuckboy who I caught feelings for during the beginning of the pandemic.
I am not an option.
I am not an option.
I am not an option.
I need to make myself understand this and remember it. This blog post is reflective of the disappointment I feel at the moment, but more importantly, it is reflective of the fact that I will be okay. I’m a dope-ass-person! And I deserved more than the way I was regarded during this entire period of COVID-19.
For months I watched someone who I cared about, start to see me as an option. In the beginning, I got a taste of what it was like to be one of his priorities. The quality time was dope and highly enjoyable. I saw him often. Homeboy was cute and really affectionate. But then Corona hit. And less quality time was had. He would say it would be different “when things go back to normal…” At that point, no one knew it would be a three-month quarantine stretch, and counting. I missed him a lot, but I was hopeful, even though it was still new. I didn’t want to come off as this clingy person who kept hitting him up all the time, so I would wait for the right moment to reach out… times when he was likely to reply. (Not gonna lie, It was a carefully constructed algorithm; It's an anxiety thing.) At some point, he just would just never reply to certain messages, which was so weird to me. There was even a period of 12 days when there was no sign of life! At day 12, I assumed I was being ghosted. Those were some really shitty days for me. The literal next day - he sent me a message. An apology for being unresponsive. Asking how I’ve been. Suddenly he was the guy I started to like in the first place. Again, optimistic me, was hopeful.
The same pattern happened again. All the while, I made excuses. “He’s working a lot. He can’t look at his phone. We’re in a pandemic. He has strong family obligations.” All of those seemed really valid, so, I told myself it was just my natural inclination to be impatient and always have control over a situation that I was really struggling with. I told myself to “CHILL. He will reach out when he can.” But there was a little person in my brain - lets call her, “Reason” - always whispering “But if he works 6 days a week, can’t he respond on the 7th day? How long does it take to reply? You're not asking for a lot at all.” I would shove those thoughts into the back of my mind and continue to chant Be Patient. Chill. Stop overthinking.
But I am not an option. When I asked if he was able to talk on the phone once in a while and he didn’t say yes, that should have been a clue. When I wished him a happy birthday and invited him to come celebrate with me, and he replied that he’ll “keep that in mind,” THAT should have been a clue. All of the unanswered messages that made our text thread look like I had an imaginary friend, clues on clues on clues. That is not how a Queen is treated. I was clearly on the back burner of his mind , and honey, I am worth SO much more than that! I finally realized how much I was pouring into a cup that barely acknowledged that I had a cup too. And that shit was DRY.
I am not a fucking option. Blessed are the friends who kept reminding me of that. And the friends who comforted me through the extremely sad days when I felt disregarded and ignored.
I am not an option.
I am not an option.
I am not an option.
So yeah, If you're reading this, I will be okay. I know what I deserve, and that ain't it. We’re moving past depression and on to the acceptance and hope stages of loss.
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