Sometimes you will not be the best, no matter how hard you try. Sometimes you will not be the most lovable.
Sometimes you will not be acknowledged as being the best, even if you were the best. Sometimes people will not tell you they love you, even if they do. Sometimes people just won't love you. Sometimes it is impossible to tell whether they don't feel it or they don't say it.
Sometimes you will do your best and it will not be good enough. Sometimes people will tell you this and their honesty will set you free. Sometimes people will tell you this and they will not mean to hurt you but they will. Sometimes they will mean to hurt you.
These are things that I know but sometimes have trouble remembering. Days when we all raise our hands and mine isn't picked. Even if my hand went up first, or fastest; even if I know the answer best. The moment when my eyes are met, held for a moment, dismissed. The moment when the eyes pass over me as if I'm not there. As if I'm not here. The right answer in my mouth, tears in my throat, all swallowed. Salt and vinegar.
What I wanted to tell you is that I remember when this was how I felt all the time. When I thought that dismissal was about me every time. Sometimes it is. But sometimes it is not. There are days now, even months, when I just do whatever I want to do and I don't think about how other people see it. I'm here now, most of the time, though it's work. Filling my mouth with the milk and honey of not worrying about making anybody other than myself happy.
That's not what I wanted to tell you. What I wanted to tell you was harder. But this is a start.