I Just Wanted You to Listen

I wasn’t asking you to fix me.

I wasn’t hoping you’d come with answers,

blueprints, or solutions.

God knows, I wasn’t even sure what I was feeling.

All I knew was, I was sinking.

And I needed someone

to sit beside me,

without trying to pull me to shore too soon.

I didn’t need to be told

"you’ll be okay"

or "others have it worse"

or "look on the bright side."

Pain doesn’t work like that.

It doesn’t shrink

just because someone else is bleeding louder.

I needed to speak

without being interrupted.

To cry

without being told to calm down.

To unravel

without someone rushing to tidy me up.

Because sometimes,

healing doesn’t start with answers,

it starts with being heard.

I didn’t want eye contact that wandered,

or arms that folded with impatience,

or that awkward nod

people give when they’re waiting for you

to just stop talking.

I wanted presence.

Stillness.

Someone to sit with me,

in all the messy, broken noise

that lived inside me.

You didn’t need to have the right words.

There are no “right” words, anyway.

Sometimes what hurts

has no language.

Sometimes it just aches.

And all I needed

was for you to hold space

the kind of space

where nothing needed to be fixed,

only felt.

I didn’t need your strength,

I needed your softness.

I didn’t need your guidance,

I needed your grace.

I just wanted you to stay,

to not flinch at my feelings

or rush to silence them.

To let the silence speak too.

Because there is something holy

about being listened to

truly, deeply,

without condition or clock.

So, if you’re ever not sure what to say,

say nothing.

Just stay.

Just breathe with me.

Just be here.

That’s all I ever wanted.

I just wanted you to listen.

Writer note: Having an endless contact list but no one to call because everyone treats you like, you have everything figured out. All i hear is "You have got this" or "You are a smart kid, you will figure it out" but truth be told I haven't gotten it.