You matter, by default.
I notice every shiver, every cough, every slurred consonant. My senses heighten when you do your thing. The thing where you just perform daily chores and act like… yourself. You know what you hate and you religiously avoid it. You try to like some things because it would be difficult to complain about everything. You have something that comes naturally to you or perhaps, you love it enough to do it even when it doesn’t come naturally.
You’re stuck but you’re functional. Most of all, you have something that makes your eyes light up when you talk about it. I notice every falter, every crinkle as you shut your eyes tight in in self-consciousness, every sigh as you tell yourself- In the long run, no one will even remember. It won’t matter. Even victory won’t. You tell yourself that, right before you look at me. I’ve been noting how you’re working your way through. When you come out on the other side, which I know you will… I want to know how you got each scar and which memory makes your eyes twinkle.
I keep looking because they tell me you’re an anomaly. You’re supposed to give up by now. You are my fairy-tale. You’re not melting into every mould they chuck at you although you are burnt at the edges. I keep looking because I know it is tiring. I know it is confusing and I almost anticipate a meltdown. I keep looking because sometimes I want to ease you out of the strain. I want to cheer for you when you think it doesn’t matter because it does. I want you to be all that you can because you are the miracle that makes me believe in humans.
The starry-eyed cynic