Part Of The Narrative

     I wish I could cry for a day so that I could be fine. I wish I could let my mom walk in and see that I was crying. I wish I was able to show emotion, to express myself in any way other than humor. I wish I could be serious about serious things, I wish I was brave enough to cry to my friend on FaceTime and not be scared. I wish I could be vulnerable in more places then a bunk bed at night in the pitch black. I wish I hadn’t let myself set the standard of being that friend who always has a joke, who never cracks, because she has it all together. I wish I had a deep story, or a dramatic testimony, or something that would make people look at something other than the walls of expectations I’ve built. I wish I knew everything about relationships and how to heal them and how to cut them and how to wrap them up in bandages and hide them so no one knew they were broken. I wish I had what I lost. I wish I wasn’t on the outside anymore. I wish I wasn’t such a hypocrite. I wished I lived closer to someone I really know so they could know I don’t practice what I preach. I miss being the one who came to church late and automatically found my best friend, who’s holding a Starbucks drink she bought for me on the way here. Her mouth drops open as she squeals about the new look I tried with my hair. After church she pulls me over to her mom and we exchange whispered conversations trying to arrange a sleepover. I miss being the one who cared enough to wake up hours before needed, just to get ready, who picked her outfit out the night before and did her hair three days in advance. I wish I was strong enough to admit weakness, I wish I was mature enough to handle more then I can, I wish I was able to handle being confided in even though I know I shouldn’t be. I wish I was brave enough to show people my work, my passion, my art, my writing, my music. I wish I could celebrate my friend’s trying to get more into the things I’m into without feeling like they’re trying to steal my identity. I wish I was making more progress than I am. I wish I really did have it all together, and I wish I knew how to tell people what I mean without making them feel terrible.

I wish I was like you.