One-Hundred Days

I suppose rejection wouldn't be the absolutely correct term for it, maybe ignoring would be better suited, but I couldn't help but to feel like you pushed me away, shoved my feelings back down my throat as soon as they left my mouth. I couldn't help but feel like you rejected the fact that I gathered up my courage and swallowed my pride down to the bottomless pit of my stomach where it churned and hid away. I couldn't help but feel like it meant absolutely nothing to you, but maybe that's partially my fault, because I suppose you don't know how hard that was for me, how much I fought with myself to keep from running away. I suppose you didn't know.

Then again, I suppose you don't know anything about me. It's the situation that I constantly throw myself into, where I know nothing of another except what strangers can gather from words and appearances. I like these situations, where I am infamous as well as them, yet I am left yearning to know more, to have them be like all the others I am close to. I reject my feelings for people, and I suppose you've noticed that of all things, because I could tell you were surprised that I acted no different around you than before, but the only thing that changed was with you, your knowledge. I stayed the same despite my confession.

I tend to do that a lot, actually, reject how I feel, reject my heart's screeching voice to tell tell tell someone, anyone. I reject my heart's constant beating and instead go with my mind's calm monotone, the one that I trust none. I follow it because I know nothing of it and that is when I feel the most comfortable, with the mutual rejection of learning of another. There is nothing to lose and nothing to gain as we are in a stalemate of indifference.

I rejected my mind, my pride, that nagging little hard rock of a heart in my chest that has been toughened by past experiences to tell you those things. I rejected the idea of you hating me, the fear of rejection itself, although I was practicing the same action on my insides. I rejected everything that makes who I am just to say three little words that mean absolutely nothing in the long run, just something to entertain your mind in those quiet moments. Yet, honestly, I don't mind, because in reality, saying that wasn't for you, it was for me.

I needed rejection, I needed to reject these qualities that make me the person I am. I needed to reject myself because I haven't been happy with who I am since I could remember. I don't need your rejection, your ignorance, or you yourself, I need me. I need my pride shoved into the dark corners of my stomach and my heart to be heard for once. I need my mind to cease its hypnotizing monotone and I need to let myself be.

I needed this rejection to let myself be.