When I was five years old
my parents led me to believe
that there was such a thing as a friend fairy
every time I lost a friend
they would hide some money
under my pillow

In grade two I called Miles Adams a poopy-head,
he punched me square in the face,
and the next morning I found eight dollars
under my pillow

In grade three I accidentally ripped Daniella Parker’s
sweater while playing toilet tag,
her mom said I wasn’t enough of a man
to be her friend
and believe it or not
the friend fairy had left four dollars
for my piggy bank the next morning

In grade five Ellis Wilcox threw
a slice of watermelon at my face
because I wouldn’t trade it
for my Kit-Kat bar,
it exploded upon contact,
and for the rest of the day
I looked like the red Angry Bird
but I didn’t care because the next morning
I found eleven dollars
under my pillow.

My parents stopped when I turned ten.
They said it was my job now
to lift my own spirit when
everyone inevitably left me

In grade seven my best friend
left me with a hug and a promise that
she would call me, before she
moved to another school,

and to this day
my phone hasn’t rung
not a single call from her
or anybody else who was willing
to be there as I moved past it.

In grade eight it was my time to move schools
at the end of class I yelled out
“Stay fresh, cheese bags!”
walked out those doors
and left without the
contact info of a single person
because I assumed
that’s the only right way to leave.

My new friends liked me a lot more
until I found out they were
hanging out without me every weekend

I asked if I could join
they said I could go to the mall
with them if I had any money to spend
and I told them that maybe I would
find some under my pillow
if they told me to my face
that they resented me

I realized that I felt less lonely
when I chose to be alone
I realized that everybody
would leave me if I didn’t
leave them first

I realized that touching a lit flame
feels incredible for the first four seconds
so the real skill is knowing when
to pull away

and while my flesh will crave
the warmth and attention
of that flame after pulling away
I know that if I did return
my flesh would bubble
and my blood would boil
at my fingertips

it’s as simple as
being left feels powerless
and leaving feels powerful.

But I can’t keep doing this.
I can’t remember the last time
somebody actually left me
I can’t remember the last time
someone pushed me away

I’ve just been so scared.
I’ve been scared that
it’s gonna happen again
I’m scared I’ll be hurt
immediately after opening up
because we’re old now

it’s no longer a matter of
getting a watermelon slice
thrown at my face or
being punched by a seven year old
with unmedicated anger problems

now it’s a matter of fear
now it’s more complicated
now I push people away because
of my own insecurities
because I refuse to believe
that there is someone out there
just like me

even the friend fairy
got tired of me after enough time

but you know what?
forget the friend fairy.
and forget Ellis Wilcox’s
unmedicated anger issues.

Somewhere out there,
someone is crying alone
in their room because they
believe they don’t have anyone.

Someone just like me.
And it’s only a matter of time
until I find them.