Somewhere in Between

I’ve never been good at saying yes.

Even to the simplest of things.

Yes, buy me a coffee.

Yes, I’ll go with you to Germany.

Yes, I’ll stay one more night with you.

“You don’t know how to receive,”

said my ex.

And maybe that’s why

yes always got stuck in my chest.

The strange thing is,

I’ve never been good at no either.

No, I’m not comfortable.

No, I’d rather be with you.

No, this is not enough.

Just no.

A complete, full sentence

I was never taught to trust.

I’ve always lived

somewhere in between,

lost between delusion

and the overthinker,

stuck in shades of gray.

A little girl

was taught that both were impolite.

That yes made you easy to take,

and no made you hard to love.

So I learned to live

somewhere in between,

where almost feels safer

than certainty,

where silence feels kinder,

but somehow scarier too.

Because I learned early

that love

can be taken away

with silence.

But not anymore.

I’m learning that yes

doesn’t make me weak.

That no

doesn’t make me hard to love.

That honesty

is not something to apologize for.

And for the first time,

I’m no longer living in between.