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Losing with grace
Maybe you are right Sally. Maybe I should never have expected anything more. Maybe it's hard because it's not meant for me. I am tired of fighting this. So here on the bathroom floor, while everyone else is sleeping peacefully not knowing about the complete failure I am, I give up. That's it, no more fight left in me, no more speed Scotty. I gave 'er all she's got, it wasn't enough.
I wasn't meant for greatness. No glory shown for me. I have always been a extra, straining to been seen in the shot. I was never the star. Not all mathletes are scientists and not everyone in drama club will see Broadway. I am not as special as I think. Someone has to loose this race. You said I shouldn't have even showed. I wish I hadn't.
I am all out of fight. My tank is on empty. I'm learning to be ok with being left behind. I was not designed for distance. My mother's old station wagon couldn't have gotten me very far anyway. I will live and die in the same jeans I wore to my high school graduation. Surviving is taking all that I have. I am not one to thrive. I am the nameless body that the TV detective pulls from the water. I am the understudy to the back-up dancers.
You told me this, Sally. You warned me all along. You hurt me only because I didn't listen. You were trying not to cause this pain. You said I wasn't good enough and I wasn't. You said I would fall and I did. I am not the star to shine but the black behind it, giving contrast to the light. I am the one that brings the little water bottles for the people that actually ran the race.
Leave me here, Sally. In the bathroom at 3am. I'll practice my losing face in the mirror. When someone else takes the trophy I'll be supportive and grateful to even be in the room. Sally, I'm done. I'm fine. I think the last of my defiance bleed out of me hours ago. It's now staining the floor and turning brown.
You were right. You are always right. That's why I hate you, Sally. But at least you're honest with me. You didn't try to sugar coat it. You said I would fail and now here I am, on the bathroom floor talking to nobody. Losing a argument with the crack in the tile, and willing myself to fade into the outdated wallpaper.
I can see my future laid out like a storyboard. I'll get up. I'll wash my face. I'll go to bed. I'll go to work. I'll grow old. I'll die. The stone will read "here lies the girl that say behind you in algebra". The obituary will say "have a nice summer... in the afterlife". I don't mind. Really. I was never part of this life, I was only ever part of the set.
Thank you for always being there for me, Sally. Always watching my back. Never lifting me up because you knew I'd fall back down. You were not a nice friend but you were a good one.
I think I found one drop of rebellion in me. One. I think I can fight what I was meant to be. Two. I will not live a life of nothing. Three. I will not spend one more day hating who I am. Four. I am taking charge, I am writing my own ending. Five. No more, Sally, no more late nights on the floor. Six. No more trying and failing. Seven. No more reaching and not coming close. Eight. I'll miss you Sally. Nine. But then you are coming with me, right? Ten. Ten pills should be enough. Better make it twenty. Goodbye, Sally.
