Monday, May 27, 2013

Listen, Baby...

When I went into sixth grade,
I felt all alone in that tiny school.
It was shiny and new to me,
But I acted like I owned the place,
and I wish someone had said to me,
Baby, you don't need to try to have it all.
You just need to let things take their own time,
wear what you like when you like, 
don't worry about who your sister was.
It's okay if you don't like geography like she does.
And baby, don't worry about boys.
You're only eleven, and it doesn't matter.
You already know who your first love is gonna be,
You already know it's gonna end bad,
You already know you don't want it to be him.
There's nothing you can do, baby, but you'll get over him eventually.
But I had no one.
And when I went into seventh grade,
I felt world-weary and grown-up.
I was in class with the eighth graders,
And though I knew I was ready to be one,
No one has ever listened to me.
I wish someone had said,
You need to make them listen baby, because things will go better when you do.
You know you're right.
You know what's best, baby,
and the haters can go fuck themselves.
And baby, I know you're trying to ignore what you confessed in August, and don't worry about it.
She'll come around.
She'll be there when it counts and will slap him for you if you ask nicely.
They always say, keep your friends close and your enemies closer.
It's okay if you don't know which she is for a while.
But I heard nothing.
And then came that summer,
When I toyed with the ideas of love and infatuation and what lovely things suits are.
When I didn't cry, but didn't breathe for a moment, either.
When he had no idea and the phrase, 'ignorance is bliss' was, in hindsight, the truest thing about me.
And I wish someone had said,
Don't make it a big deal.
Baby, you know you like him, let's leave it at that. 
I promise you, he's just a boy.
Just. A. Boy.
Boys will come and go, alright?
There are more important things, 
So be glad you're making friends.
But...
But nothing.
No voice came down from the heavens and told me what to do.
So I let things pass, and then,
As I went into eighth grade, I panicked.
And I really, really needed someone to say,
Let it go.
You know you know what he's gonna say,
what she's gonna say,
what they're gonna talk about if it gets out.
Baby, don't give yourself too much hope.
Don't lose sight of your friends in all this,
And don't pretend to know what you're doing.
You're gonna need to not have alienated yourself come his birthday.
Baby, listen to me, be nice, be warm, be friendly.
You aren't doing yourself any favors by being an ice queen when he rejects you.
It's better than weeping, but still.
So baby, listen to me.
Tell him that you don't expect anything.
Tell him the truth about how you feel, but leave out the best parts.
And baby. Never tell him he can always talk to you.
It's only gonna hurt.
Listen, baby...

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