I wanted someone else to notice first

Dear Delyara, The cup. The bin. The tone. The fact that I was lower than I looked. I’m tired of being the one who catches every small falling thing before it becomes inconvenient. Some nights I don’t want to be more aware than everyone else in the room. I want someone else’s attention to arrive before mine has to save the moment again. That kind of rest still feels luxurious to imagine.