I keep wondering what it is exactly that you disliked about me? Why did you treat them so differently from me?
Did I arrive too soon?
Was I not good enough?
Were you jealous?
Did I remind you of him?
Did you sense this profound incompatibility?
Or did you just look at me and despise what you saw?
For all this strangeness, all the flaws you kept reminding me I have, you were to help me understand them rather than shame and dismiss them.
For all this time, I thought I was the unloveable one; the one to hide themselves from the world; the one everyone had a right to ridicule. Yet, I can finally say—and finally feel—this: what you did to me was unacceptable. It was wrong.
You can take this isolation of mine, this time not as a shame-ridden moment meant to shield myself from the world, but rather as judgment for what you have done to me. Yes, I am so full of flaws still, but the conditional love you gave me wasn’t good enough. You should’ve done better.
So let me ask you: Can you see me? I can feel your eyes— they always follow me—
But this time I’ll be looking right back at you, without shame or fear inside.
Then, I wonder what will become of you? Who will you blame for your inadequacies?
This story is part of a collection of poems, short stories and introspective diary entries, called “Grimoire of a Weird Person II”.