I ran out of class hoping I could protect myself during those 15 minutes.
I felt dumb for being unprepared
Because I usually have more foresight that this.
I knew I would have to run home by myself.
I couldn’t avoid it, and I didn’t want to duck under someone else’s cover.
But I was hoping, foolishly, that someone would be standing outside my classroom door.
I was hoping that a friend knew I needed help.
Even if I never asked for help, I wish my friends would know when I needed it.
I hoped she would be standing outside of class
And drive me in the car I lent her
Because that’s the least you can do for your friend.
You can fill up my tank.
You can buy me a drink.
But I wish you talked to me more like you cared.
Talked to me in a way that I could trust you with my own problems.
You can’t fight it
You can’t be mad at it either.
It just happens.
And when you get you finally step in a problem
That’s when you know.
Wet socks are the moment you stop fighting
And start accepting.
And I wanted to cry
Because I hated going through it alone.
The obstacles itself is not a big deal.
But it feels like you have nothing and no one to protect you.
And I ask myself, “Where are all my friends who can help me?”
And why do I feel like I have to walk through this alone?
They aren’t really there for the bad times.
Why would I want them there for the good times?
Why would I want anyone beside me?
Because I can get through this alone.
I have the patience to walk with wet socks
And still be grateful that I made it home alive.