Real as in Relative to Him

 Sit down, shut up, 

and smile. 

Communication is a one way street.

Hurt feelings are just misheard things, 

that serve absolutely no relevance 

to your real life. 

You've spent your whole existence doing this. 

You know the drill. 

A little more of this, a little less of that. 

Losing pieces of yourself to appease your fellow people.

Nothing new, I just thought this was different. 

Love and acceptance your inner child never found, 

don't have a place here.

A smile you perfected at thirteen. 

Practice it long enough and no one notices. 

In the floor of the shower, 

Is your only place to just fully exist. 

You're supposed to laugh there, 

And spread your legs here. 

Don't worry, you'll get the hang of it. 

Half of you can become all of you, 

if no one ever sees the other half. 

Chin up, go cook dinner. 

Tell him everything is fine. 

If you just try harder, 

you'll be his perfect person. 

Someone can finally love you. 

Where the hell is my off switch?

 

Dear Mase,

I hope this letter finds you well, but if you’re anything like me, it won’t. That’s how this whole blog started in the first place. Everyday for a very long time, I would write you a letter. I just missed you so much and I thought if Mase were here right now, what would I tell him? The whole blog was originally supposed to be letters to you. Now, it’s just filled with broken pieces of my life. Little orphan Samantha to be put on display for all of the world to ignore, just like they always have. Do you feel like anyone has ever seen the real you? I used to think that if showed people all of you, that was the only way you knew whether or not they really loved you. Modern Samantha is much more sophisticated in the ways of the world. No one really cares about the real you, as long as you’re a version of yourself they like. I think maybe I just wasn’t meant for all of this. I care about the real in people, I care about how they are. You never want to show me the real you. I think that’s sad. I’ve met several versions of you and they are all my favorite. I just think maybe I wasn’t intended to be around other people. I’ve always been an orphan, which is totally irrelevant, until you realize that being an orphan, means you never got fulfilled as a child. It means when no one loves you, you’re not really surprised. When no one cares about the real you, it’s just another day. You know, my whole life, I always thought if I could just find one person in the whole world who really cared about it, and took my hand and took me far away from everything else I had known out of life, I’d be the luckiest kid in the whole world. But the truth is, at least in my case, there’s a reason no one ever really loved me on the inside. I’ve spent my whole life altering myself to be less emotional, less unhappy, less fucked up. I thought having a home would change those things, that was stupid. A fraction of yourself is still yourself, right? I think you know a little bit about that. The difference is, people would still love you, you’re scared of what’s on your inside, not them. I, on the other hand, am best served when my inner child is buried and shut down. When I die, do you think anyone will really care if they knew the real me? Do you think they’ll even know the difference? Not if you smile big enough. There’s a reason I never had anyone really there for me. There’s a reason none of them spent time with me/ There’s a reason I was always last. There’s a reason every single person I have ever known has left me abandoned. I guess they all did me a favor? I never thought the shit that happened to me would come back and bite me in the ass, no matter who said it would. That just makes me a whole idiot. But it’s good, teach them early. People only want the absolute best version of you, it doesn’t matter what inside of you has to die to make that possible. I don’t think there’s a single person in my whole life that was ever happy to see me. I was always best served quiet and ignored. No one ever cared how many nights I spent awake alone, no one ever counted how many birthday’s I spent alone, no one ever, never, not once in my whole life, laid down beside me and cared about how I felt inside or what was going through my head. No one ever texts me and asks me if I’m okay. Why would God put you on a planet surrounded with people, and no once has anyone ever listened without the need to respond and hear themselves talk. I’m still alive, that’s all that matters to everyone, right? Just once, I just wanted one person to ask about my insides. I hope wherever you’re at right now, you feel surrounded by the people that I know love you. I think your insides matter. You used to be a great listener, and I think I really needed this. Life won’t be so bad. I’ll do better for you. I’ll be happier, smile more, feel less, throw away sadness, it’ll be great for you. I wish you wanted to talk about yourself sometimes, I’m not totally ugly on the inside. Wishing you good things for your future. – Samantha