It’s hard when you’re trying not to think about something; trying not to write about something; trying not to let it bother you. Hard indeed. Hard to see someone who is self destructive without realizing it; falling back in to old habits; thinking nobody knows.
I’m glad that I am not there now, dealing with it on a daily basis like I did for so long, but when I see you; talk to you, I know immediately. You may be able to hide it from others, but it was my life for so long, you can not hide it from me.
I saw you. You didn’t think anyone did—but I did.
I don’t say anything—what would I say? How would I say it? What right do I really have? In the grand scheme of things, it bears no impact on my life now, however, knowing and seeing takes me right back and again, I am 12, 13, 14 and helpless. Unable to help you. Unable to DEAL with you—at all. I feel like shutting down and pretending and there is no good reason for it.
I am not there.
And I won’t be there.
I hate that it is still affecting me.
I just wonder if you will celebrate this year as you have in years past, for maybe the last 10.
I stopped counting 5 years ago when you’d decided it was ok to indulge a little bit.
It’s not ok; never has been. I think it’s apparent. Not to you though.
Look where you are now.