je comprend || i understand

a tide of remembrance washes over me and i have something to say to women (to myself).

i remember being solitary, walking down hallways by myself, drawing a line with my steps just to the right of center because walking down a hallway by oneself seemed more artistic that way. and if i walked to the right, i was leaving space for someone else, someone to walk beside me.

i remember the other girls, the ones who wore mascara and Express jeans with the trademark straight stitching across the back pockets. i remember their confidence that i now know masked insecurity, how they floated, how they shone. and i remember feeling so grounded, so heavy, too smart and too dull to be carried by anyone.

i remember feeling so painfully unchosen. everyone else was seen and chosen, and i was left behind, an island of unfound treasure floating in the sea of nothingness. my light was hidden. no one could see me. i was alone. i watched as my friends were found, i cannot count the number of them whose boyfriends came to me for ideas, for poems, for information, for present-wrapping tutorials. they wanted me, but not for me; they wanted me insofar as i could help them to be seen by someone else.

there are years that are unkind. and for some, they are more unkind than for others.

and yet.


i want to tell you (i want to tell myself) that there is one who loves you, who sees you. you are not alone. you are not unchosen. you are not forgotten or passed over or thrown aside after a period of time --- after boredom sets in, after restlessness takes over and lesser ones leave you lying in the road, discarded for something more exciting (in other words, ironically, something less likely to ask for their growth).

there is a good samaritan coming your way, he hears your cries and will take responsibility for you, your healing, your welfare. he actually feels the pain that is yours: your burning eyes, your punctured heart, the acid of rejection that churns with every step. he is coming. he will find you.

his plan is to bring you to a place where you will be taken care of, to pay for your restoration and see to it that your bones are set and your wounds sewn. and he will do this even though you have never met --- because he already loves you. there are a million reasons why he wouldn't stop to take you under his care, but the clamoring of those million reasons is nothing but a meaningless drone compared to the song of love he hears for you.

so stay where you are, and bleed, and hurt. close your eyes and imagine what dying feels like. shiver as night falls, turn on your side and cling to the last shred of life in your heart. but as the light fades, listen for footsteps --- listen for his voice. he is calling you, and once you are found, he will not let you go.

click photo for source;
writings based on Luke 10