Please Accept My Application

Meditation on power, agency and the things we ask of others throughout our lives.

Please let me out. I am ready.

Please pick me up. Wrap me in warmth and continue the blurry shapes and soft noises, for although I do not know what they are, I appreciate them. And I believe I need them.

Please feed me.

Please stop moving so fast. Hold me to your warmth. You smell so nice, like milk, really. He doesn’t, but he can hold me too. As long as he doesn’t talk. I don’t prefer his sounds.

Please don’t come at me with whatever you pulled out of that blender. Please, just Cheerios.

Please clean up whatever I just spilled all down my black-and-white jammies. I think they are black and white, that might be all there is. Don’t say I didn’t warn you about that blender.

Please let me put that in my mouth. That. And that. Also that. It’s all I want.

Please listen to me. Let me speak and be heard. My self is not fully formed, but it is against forces such as you that it will be formed. When I tell you my favorite outfit, know it is everything to me, I’ve never been less casual. At this moment. I only exist in moments.

Please tell me “Good job.” Tell me I can do it. Tell me I worked hard, not that I am smart. (Please tell me I am smart, too).

Please tell me I was right. Not her. Not him. Me. Please let my voice ring louder, for once. Let me be chosen, in your eyes.

Don’t tell me to go to bed. Don’t tell me to sit up. Don’t tell me my friends are bad. Don’t tell me not to smoke. Don’t tell me what to wear. Don’t tell me anything.

Please accept my application.

Notice how hard I worked. How unusual I am, even more than I realize. Please embrace me into this community and see me as the adult I already think I am.

Please want to come sit next to me. Please choose me to talk to, me to play with — do we still play? No, we talk and sit and learn and together online, not in person. Please want more than that.

Don’t tell me what I know. Don’t tell me what I don’t. Don’t tell me how to work hard. Don’t tell me how you had to suffer. Don’t tell me you know what it’s like.

Please tell me how to figure out life. Please tell me what I should be doing now, to make it all OK. Before it’s too late and I become like you.

Please accept my application. Please understand how hard I work. How interested I am. How much I love your company. But I can do whatever I want, right? I need freedom, most of all. And a paycheck.

Please understand my advances. Please make this easy for me. Please don’t break my heart, I’ve never patched it up before, and I don’t know what glue to use. Please don’t treat me casually. Nothing has ever been less casual, though you wouldn’t know it.

Please say “Yes.”

Please say it is healthy, she is healthy, he who will be is healthy. Please say we have nine months.

Please don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Don’t cry. Here are some Cheerios.

Please make me happy. Please do the things I think you should. Please don’t put that into your mouth.

Please hear me when I say “Good job.” Know I mean it more than I can say. Please hear that you are beautiful too and know what that means, fully.

Please don’t ask me if you are right more than her. More than him. Please don’t make me choose. Please just be quiet. Just be quiet.

Please go to bed. Please sit up straight. Realize your friends are bad. Don’t smoke. Don’t wear that. Just listen to me.

Please have kids of your own who are just like you. Then you’ll learn. Then you’ll see.

Please don’t leave me.

Don’t think I’m not enough. Don’t think I didn’t try, or I didn’t care, or that I think of this casually. Nothing could be less casual, though you wouldn’t know it.

Please know it is not your fault. This is difficult for me, for us. We will always love you. Always.

Please, don’t ask me how to figure out life. I don’t know. I never knew. Did it look like I did? You won’t know either. Just live.

Please do better with your life, do the things I didn’t. Couldn’t. You’re not me. You’re better than me.

Don’t tell me what I know. Don’t tell me what I don’t. Don’t tell me how to work hard. Don’t tell me I’m not enough anymore. Don’t tell me you don’t need me and I’ve reached my time.

Please repeat what you said about my retirement savings. I think it’s missing a zero. Or two.

Please tell me what I’m supposed to do with all this free time.

Please call. Visit. Please don’t forget me.

Please let me walk outside today. Let me smile at the sun to the extent my face will allow. Let me not worry about pain or falling.

Please let someone, anyone see me, hear me. I don’t want to be invisible.

Please forgive me. Please hold me to your warmth, for although I do not know what it is, I appreciate it. And believe I need it.

Please accept my application. Please let me be a good person. Let me be stronger, wiser. Let me love and receive love.

Please know how much I love you. How proud I am of you. How sorry I am. It is not, this is … I am sorry.

Please touch my face. Hold my face in your hands. Please accept my application to your grace. Guide me to your gates and bid me knock.

Please let me in. I am ready.

Thank you for reading. If you want to see all my content, please sign up for my mailing list at www.ellenvrana.com