Back in Seventh Grade

I’m sitting on my phone
Thinking I should text you
I want to
So badly
I want to make things work
But
Even more
I want YOU
To text me
I want YOU
to make things work

And I’m back in seventh grade
Sitting on the bleachers
Alone
Waiting to see if anybody will notice
As they skate around the gym
To see if anyone will reach out
And ask me to skate again

The ice breaks
Someone reaches out
(and if memory serves, it was probably me)
(or is that just my demons)
(the crows that peck at the flowers I plant)
(so all my fields turn fallow)
(and the little imps)
(in their little lawyer suits)
(dragging me to court)
(to evaluate my friends???)
(like, no)
(i don’t want to)
(but they make me)
(i love my friends)
(and they love me)
(right?)
And I’m pulled out of this vicious cycle
For a day or two
It doesn’t matter who reached out to who
And I love it so very very much

And I’m back in seventh grade
On the day that all my friends showered me with attention
They made a point to let me know that I was SEEN
That I was HEARD
That I was LOVED and could be loved

But then the next day comes
And it’s back to the same old grind
Where it feels like I have to constantly push to get attention
Even as I say
“If something is important, it doesn’t matter if you have the time”
“You make the time”
Even as I say
“Their just busy”
“I miss their texts too sometimes”

And I’m back in seventh grade
I went to get some water
And the door locked behind me
But everyone kept on playing
That’s okay I said
Someone will notice
As I stare in through the window filled with wire
Someone will see that I’m gone
As the demons drag me to court to evaluate if that’s true
Someone will have to get water
As tears fill my eyes and meander down my cheeks like rain drops on a field of withered crops

Then the bell rings