…It killed a part of her before the rest was gone
Sometimes I get curious about what I’ve written previously.
And every time I get curious, I get reminded…
Like watching my life story. Who I am. The things I’ve done and seen and thought.
No, it’s much more intimate. Reflecting on a lifetime from your own perspective. There isn’t anyone else writing this, manipulating the words to seem more exciting somehow. Draw you in better. No, this isn’t written for anyone. Just raw thoughts boiling over.
I’m sorry mom. It seems like when it’s your turn all I’ll have is apologies for you too. That I didn’t try harder, that I didn’t take care of you when you needed me too. Something else I missed the mark on. There was an unspoken agreement that when it came to this point I would step up to take care of you. Once again fear and cowardice and my sister saying that I shouldn’t, convinced me maybe I could make my own choices and they would turn out alright. Once again I was wrong.
And now I will watch you suffer through this nightmare until you leave me too.
And suffering until there’s nothing left.