I tried to ignore it at first. I told myself that the relationship was new and that I was expecting way too much. I told myself that it was too much to ask him to put me first, or above school or his friends. I gracefully took the backseat each time he bailed last minute on plans or forgot to call. I told myself that he was busy and that he was allowed to have a life outside of me. I didn’t want him to think I was crazy or clingy, so I sat there quietly on the shelf waiting for him to need me. And he always did. He always came to get me when he was ready and we would have our fun, but then he would place me right back where he found me.

And I sat there quietly until I couldn’t anymore. Maybe he didn’t know he was hurting me, I told myself. So I spoke up. And he listened and gave me his reasons and I understood. He promised he would be better and I believed him. So I remained on the shelf with new resolve, thinking that now things would be better. But instead, he came less and less. I wanted to talk to him and to see him, but I felt needy and annoying, and with each passing day I felt my self-worth plummeting. I tried to keep myself entertained with friends and school, but I spent each moment with one eye on my phone, for the small chance that he might actually call.

Once I couldn’t help myself and when he came to get me from my shelf, I was sitting there with tears on my face. I thought maybe the sight of my tears, the physical evidence of the pain that I was feeling, would spark something inside of him. That he would see my wet face and pick me up and never leave me on the shelf again. I dreamt of my shelf covered in dust from lack of use, and days spent with him. As I sat there with him looking down at me, I thought of all the things that he could possibly be thinking, just waiting for his reaction. I waited for that look of realization in his eyes of how he was slowly killing me inside, and how all he had to do to fix it was pick me up. But he didn’t, and on the shelf I stayed.

I let the memories of the good times keep me there on the shelf, but it was the realization of the bad times that helped me get down from it. I am more than a doll, or someone’s special little play thing. I deserve more than the shelf, even if it’s the top one. Respect in relationships is not something that you should have to beg for or demand. Your value should never be questioned and your needs should never be placed on the back burner for someone else’s. I am not a trophy or a toy. I am a person, and I deserve to be treated as such.