I heard the dial buzz like a nursery rhyme
I tried to prepare myself
clears throat
My tone, my pitch
I can’t remember why I called
For many months
I had picked my phone and tried to type
But I could never find the words
Or there were too many words
There was a lot to say
But not this way
I wanted it face to face
So i could look into your beautiful eyes
And peer into your damaged soul again
For many months I wanted you to say more
But you always found a way to say none at all
You would look into my wanting heart
And say just enough
But it was really much of nothing
Those lips would part
And that gorgeous smile revealed
They would go round and round like a ferris wheel
Soft like a spoon full of brûlée
Your lips would lock into mine
Both sets of them
Finding them time after time
But never finding truth
You used to make me sing
Low octave stepping to your beats
You played my heart like a drum
And I shifted my hips to the baseline
As you shifted my guts
You knew your way around
But I didn’t know how to keep you around
The dial tone stopped
You picked up and I heard you say
“I love you and I’ve been meaning to call”
Well that is what I thought I heard you say
So I asked you to repeat yourself
You said “never mind”
And right then
I remembered why I called
To tell you, that you’re a fuxking asshole
My Uber is on its way
I’ll be there in 20mins
2018, Adewus.
Picked up a call from someone I shouldn’t have and it inspired this poem.
Sometimes I’m amazed at the strength I have… to pick the cowardly option.
Not because I don’t know better. Not because I don’t see it.
But because I can feel myself choosing it anyway.
The option so many of us default to – the one that requires less vulnerability, less discomfort, less truth. The one where we don’t have to do the work.
I’m always a little shocked by how much effort I can put into convincing myself that:
- I wasn’t wrong
- I shouldn’t be the one to call
- I don’t need to reach out
As if silence is somehow a form of dignity.
And the dangerous part is how quickly time starts working in your favor. One day turns into one week. That week turns into distance. And suddenly, both people settle into the quiet comfort of:
“I must have been right.”
No resolution. No growth. Just distance dressed up as peace.
What amazes me even more is how we operate in extremes.
In the highs, we speak so boldly. We promise love, loyalty, and longevity. We say things that feel permanent. We build something that feels real.
But when things get hard—when it requires humility, accountability, or discomfort—we start looking for exits. We protect our ego instead of the bond.
We don’t always lose people because we don’t care.
Sometimes we lose them because we weren’t brave enough to fight for the connection the same way we were brave enough to start it.
We become afraid to hold cherishable things because we got dropped as fragile things… now we are fragile beings.
That line sits with me. More than when I first came up with it but everytime I think of the much I’ve lost because I was fragile or worried about breaking fragile things.
A lot of our hesitation isn’t random; it’s learned. Just ask Janine and Gregory.
It’s protective. It’s rooted in past experiences where showing up didn’t end well.
But still… that doesn’t make avoidance the answer.
Adulting requires a different kind of bravery.
Not the loud, visible kind.
The quiet kind.
The kind that:
- picks up the phone first
- admits fault without being forced
- chooses understanding over being right
- stays when it would be easier to withdraw
Bravery in the face of pain, hurt, and disappointment.
So the real question becomes:
How do you find your voice… when your instinct is to protect it?
How do you push through… when everything in you says to stay quiet?
I don’t have a perfect answer yet.
But I’m starting to believe it begins with choosing discomfort on purpose.
Choosing honesty before distance.
Choosing connection before ego.
Even when it feels like the harder option.
Especially then.
Till next time.
Stay up.
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You are highly appreciated.
#WordsOfWednesday
© 2026 #WhatTheHeckMan
As a recovering runner/track star, I’m at a stage where I’m choosing to forgo protecting myself and be more expressive. It’s really hard for me, but when you want something, you have to be willing to fight for it.