Hurt feelings report

Do you ever obsess over small things? Like that guy you pushed past so that you could be ahead of him in the supermarket line? Or the colleague who sniped at you at a meeting in front of everyone? Do you lie in the dark and think about the high school boyfriend you were unkind to?

No? Maybe it’s just me. But if you recognize yourself in this at all, then you might find yourself in Hurt Feelings Report, which is about exactly that sort of rumination. It’s fun to exaggerate the ruminating, to dwell in it and find the ridiculousness living there… and to find the tiny miracle that lives at the heart of all things.

I told you “That won’t hurt my feelings,” and I probably even believed it just then,
but this was untrue, and I thought you should know it.
My feelings will be hurt, and I’ll cherish this pain.
I will lie awake at night rolling this feeling through my thoughts,
holding it close to my chest and loving it obsessively.
I will poke at every wound and treasure the sweet ache.
I’ll pick at the scabs until the blood runs.
I will find every bruise and admire the colors:
Who knew that hurt feelings could look so amazing?
It may not be rational to store up and save up hurt feelings like this,
but I’ve never claimed to be rational, my friend.
Every bump, bruise, and fracture is proof I’m alive,
telling my story, a map of the skin of my heart.
When I told you it won’t hurt my feelings,
instead you should know that I’ll ponder and cherish the hurt in my heart
and never let it go
and never let you go.

The title comes from my boss, who likes to pretend that he’s a complete grump, though sometimes you can catch a glimpse at the marshmallow center hidden deep in his core. When he has to make a decision that he expects to be unpopular, he might say, “Well, today we have to do this thing. You can all file hurt feelings reports tomorrow.” As I wrote this poem in February 2023, I knew that its title would have to come from this line, and so Hurt Feelings Report became a poem.

Have you ever sought out the tiny miracle that lives at the heart of something painful, or even something silly? What was that discovery like? Was love living there? It’s my theory that the tiny miracle that lives at the heart of all things is love.