Heavy

I have a hard time when people don't love me.

It hurts when people don't want me

around them

in their lives.

I have a friend... Well, I had a friend.

Over some time, she was collecting complaints. Valid, I am certain.

She did not express them.

She did not choose

to have a hard conversation

with

me.

Instead, her complaints got very heavy.

Too heavy, too dense, too dark.

The bag that she kept them in became very heavy

and she couldn't see me any more.

Or, the me she saw through heavy, complaint laden eyes

didn't look like someone she wanted to be friends with anymore.

I have tried to open the door,

to say I'm sorry,

to own my actions and choices,

to ask forgiveness.

No.

Done.

Over.

It is a hard choice for me to understand.

Yet, it is her choice.

And because it is hard for me

I know that

there is much for me to learn.

That my worth is not tied to another's perception of me.