Yes or No

Choice is yours

I don’t need you to enjoy my story. I don’t need you to tell me what worked. I don’t want an I’m sorry. I don’t want some statement.

I don’t need pity. I don’t need sorrow. I don’t care if you wished it didn’t happen.

I don’t want you to fix a mechanical error. I teach this, I know it. If I make an error, it’s because I chose to or because I wrote it with my thumb on my phone and didn’t care.

I don’t want corrections or questions. I don’t want you to ask who was this or when was this?

Who cares about the details or the context.

Everything in here is real. I will honor it too much to cheapen it for something safe, and that kind of feedback feels safe.

Bring me your heart as I have shown mine. Sit with me in a silent discomfort. Don’t fill it with noise.

Don’t flatter me with nonsense.

Tell me if you felt it. Yes or no.

Tell me if it adds up. Yes or no.

Tell me if it is worth reliving it to tell the story. Yes or no.

Tell me if you believe it matters. Yes or no.

Tell me that you can forgive my shortcomings a little more. Yes or no.

Tell me if you can acknowledge if you misjudged something I did or didn’t do. Yes or no.

Tell me if you can sit in the dark with me. Yes or no.

Tell me the panic won’t change it. Yes or no.

Tell me you don’t need the control. Yes or no.

Tell me you believe me when I say it’s how I do. How I can be. Yes or no.

I’ve felt it, wondered if it’s added up, didn’t know if it was worth reliving, wondered if it really mattered, if reality even mattered in shades of memories distorted, hoped people could see I don’t always like my behaviors but can’t always stop it, wondered if someone could say I see now and I was wrong, and I’ve sat in the dark with no lights.

Also, please like my book. I’m so insecure. Some of the time.

I’ve seen the panic when I share it and regretted telling it. I’ve seen those who question my integrity that surely I must not mean it.

But I do. Sincerely.

I’ve been at my best in those moments.

Sometimes my worst.

It’s lonely, but some people are terrible.

Can you be with me?

Can you be in the discomfort and awkward without cheapening it?

Will you stay? With me?

I will be with you after. I promise.

I’ll be with you longer. I will do it your way longer. I do know my way isn’t the easiest.

But a class of gen alpha high schoolers who check their phones and InstaTalk with each breath can do it,

I know you can too.

But will you?

Will you choose to?

Will you choose me?

I choose you.

I choose to be me.

I choose you to be you.

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