downtown galaxy - my poetry

"people-pleaser"

i dislike the term "people-pleaser." i dislike the implication of someone who exists only to make others happy. because everyone is someone. you can't give all of yourself to everyone else, because there is still an autonomous you.

and then i squinted, and tilted my head, and asked "what does that make me?"

i do not consider myself a selfless person, for i am surrounded by those that are far more saintly and giving than i could ever be. but.

for someone whose stomach twists at the mere notion of letting someone down, inconveniencing them, failing to aid or help, hurting, irritating, annoying, someone whose spine hunches over, shrinking, because if there's less of her existing, perhaps there's less of her to cause disruption-- it is not selflessness, goodness, it is not any of those kind things.

it strikes me that the best word to encompass the contrast in what i think and what i do is hypocrite.

but i will do what i can. i will puncture my lungs to give someone else air. i will curl amd shift my bones into the smallest configuration possible. i will hold everything i am in my hands and offer it to anyone who needs.

because is there a me that's worth keeping?