Life can break your spine. But at least if someone takes you and snaps what is holding you together, they knew you in that moment. They knew what kept the pieces of you intact; they knew the quiet panic as everything fell apart. In that instant, someone knew what made you whole.
Most of the time, no one cares to know. Someone who might be able to read you at a glance can drop you in a park and leave you lonely. Even the children could walk over you. Over me. I was left. I was alone. Even the children stepped on my soul, as I wondered what my purpose was if you no longer needed me. No longer wanted me. No longer knew me.
I wanted to be picked up and cherished again. To find someone able to read my thoughts and fall asleep next to me. Would I ever have that again? Would I ever be known again?
I sat in the park that day, unable to move. Everyone simply walked around me, not noticing the crisis I was enduring. Dropped. Right in public, and out of all of those people, no one cared. No one saw my turmoil. No one knew.
Until she came.
She saw me from across the park. She watched as everyone ignored what was happening to me. So she came. She picked me up and took me to lunch. She took me home. She got to know me.
All I ever wanted was to be read.
To have my pages turned and my words memorised. To have someone understand the extent of my thoughts. Someone to care. Someone to know me.
To everyone else, I was just a bit of rubbish left behind. To her, I was a whole new world.
