Hey you.
Yes, you.
Here's the thing.
I read too many self-help books.
I listened to all those superman podcasts.
"Get yourself out there."
"You're amazing."
"Live in the moment."
"Shape your destiny."
"Make the fist step."
So I did.
Kinda.
With a meltdown
and a freakout thrown in.
And I clicked send.
And I obsessed over every
letter and period and comma.
And I obsessed.
Then?
What then?
Come on.
You know the answer.
Hey you.
Yes, you.
You silence.
You no reply.
I got over it.
There was nothing to get over.
You're nice, I'm sure.
You usually reply, I'm sure.
Here's the thing.
Thank you.
Surprised?
I know.
That send button?
Doesn't send me into a panic attack anymore.
That getting out there?
Got it covered.
Hey you.
Yes, you.
Thank you.
Also? Your loss.
About the Creator
Felicity Jade Lawrence
Just floating along on a river of words.
Keep reading
More stories from Felicity Jade Lawrence and writers in Poets and other communities.
The Back Door
If I were to write a story, I would write about the safé on the corner of Lupus and Flitcroft Street. It probably has an actual name but I don’t know what it is. I don’t like it all that much. Its walls are of a sickly lime green colour and the chairs are hard, modern and white. I also don’t drink coffee, but if I did, I certainly wouldn’t drink it there. They always buy the cheapest brand and then the whole café stinks like someone died in there. But no one really cares. I usually drink orange juice. The oranges are good; they get them from a nearby market, so it’s not some cheap stuff out of a box.
By Felicity Jade Lawrence7 years ago in Humans
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By Katherine D. Graham5 days ago in Wander
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