A Rant, of Sorts

I thought you saw me.

Saw me past the difficulty and abrasive ways that I pigeonhole to cope. I was happy at the possibility that maybe I could be my whole self. To speak without regret of saying too much. Or not speak at all and bear no pressure to fill the room with meaningless words – like I usually feel pressured to do.

I expected.

And my expectations fumbled. Not at the expense of anyone but myself. You see, placing expectations on a human is nothing but a quick road to (excessive) vulnerability (EW...jk) or hurt feelings. It’s a setup that even I have witnessed many times before. Yet, like a rookie, somewhere between here and there, I surrendered to the idea of just maybe - and expected more. Careless that those expectations were set by [me] a flawed human being. They were never expressed aloud, and therefore damn sure not intended to be held in high regard by another flawed human being. Ha!

Now here I am, with my mind far ahead from the rest of me, evaluating the aftermath of that futile mistake. More upset that I - placed expectations on a soul incapable of upholding a standard I created for my keepsake.

Whoops, silly me.