Until I Doubt

It was a good day. We were enjoying ourselves. I was enjoying myself. I had a good time with your family. We had conversation, sunshine and wine. So everything is fine. Everyone laughed, had fun and seemed to like me. They said they liked me. It was a good day, wasn’t it? It’s not the crash of your car door that gives it away. It’s the silence. The way you do not speak to me while I babble about a joke your dad had made. The way you keep your eyes on the road while I reminisce about the lovely story your sister had told. The way you lose your breath and tense your shoulders while I ask you what’s wrong. Oh no, what’s wrong? What have I done? What was it this time? I sound annoyed when, in fact, I am scared to my core. And so you feel poked, attacked. And you slash back. You don’t shout, not yet. But I can hear it in your tone. You are too controlled. You keep your voice too low. You are cutting too short. But then you cut me. With curses, with accusations, with the truth. You cut me deep, leaving wounds all over my chest, my heart, my soul. A deep one on my belly. What do you mean the joke your dad told was on me? What do you mean the story of your sister was making fun of me? What do you mean they do not really like me? They said they really liked me. Did they? Did they like me? Did they lie to me? Why? Well… Yes, your dad was looking in my direction while he had made his punch line, but I thought it was just a coincidence. Yes, your sister‘s lines were a bit overbearing, but I thought it was just the way she talked. Well, was I wrong? What have I done wrong? Why don’t they like me? Why did you bring me if they don’t like me? I can see it in your eyes though your head is still turned to face the road. There! You do not even try to hide it. Shame. You are ashamed of me. And it makes me ashamed of myself. I am not likeable. I smile too loud, I ask too naive, I am too much. And not enough. I could ask my friends what they think about me. They always liked me. Well, they had before. But we don’t see them anymore, since you do not fancy being around them. They are like me, too loud, too naive, too much. And not enough. I can not ask them. I should have just kept my mouth shut. You agree. Not with words but by your sudden stop to argue about everything I say. So I stop too. My words, my voice, my smile, my hope. Your family does not like me. And if I keep being like that, if I keep being me, they will never. And your love might end sooner than I can change myself.

No, I will try! I will give my best. Tell me what I can do, tell me what I should do! Because I will! For you I will do anything. They will like me. I will make them like me! So you can like me with them, too. Please believe me! I will do better. I will be better, I will be as you wish me to be.

Until there is nothing you need to be ashamed of about me.