Just a Dollar Bill

There was a ring made out of a dollar bill sitting on the table this afternoon and it was starting to fall apart. After deciding to put it back in my wallet, I took it apart and attempted to flatten out the creases. For some reason, the reality that I would not be able to make the bill look as nice as it had before I folded it struck me as slightly tragic… and all of a sudden, I felt like the dollar bill.

Before my last relationship, I was a nice, fairly new dollar bill with just a folded corner or two. I was naïve and hopeful. When I was in the relationship, I was all folded up and feeling special because I was in the shape of a ring; I was wanted; I was valuable.

I was so happy to be a ring that I didn’t notice all the folds that had been made; all the ways that I had compromised to make him happy; slowly choosing to change my own preferences so that they more closely met up with his. I thought I was being healthy and cooperative within my relationship, but most of those folds represented pieces of myself that I had pushed away.

Though I began the process of tearing the ring apart years ago as I searched for the pieces of myself that had been cast aside, it is only now that I discover how impossible it is to truly smooth out the creases. Their indentation remains.

I may be a dollar bill again, but though my worth is unchanged, I’m not the same as I once was. The creases make me timid because they now know what it feels like to be folded the wrong way, and they are sensitive to and wary of people who sound similar to the previous crease-maker.

Sometimes I wonder if there really is someone who will know the right folds to make, and will respect the creases that I warn him about.

I’m tired of being just a dollar bill.