I just want to raise my hand and say "Here!" when the Broken Hearts club meets. I just want to say I'm here.
What does it mean when no one reaches out? What does it mean when my outstretched hand is picked clean and there is no balm to cover the wounds? I don't want to feed the birds. I want to feed friends.
Am I searching for something that doesn't exist? Am I crying about the loss of something that was never meant to be?
You can't force the community to include you. Or can you? Is that how people succeed? They claim their place and stand firmly on confident ground? I don't think I have that kind of resolve. The wounded don't typically feel confident about where they stand. I certainly don't feel confident about anything right now.
Perhaps this is a season. Endure. Get through. Hope.
My club meets every other Tuesday. I'll see you there.