Fiction Story

And it doesn’t matter because I can’t go back now. I would have done everything differently; I never would have said anything. That first time that started everything, laying it all out on you, you taking care of me; it never should have happened. It started everything. Then that other first, it sealed the deal. No going back after that. Everything came back to you, leaned on you, and I couldn’t even stop it. But that whole time you helped me it killed me, it did just as much damage as what came later. But that last time, it was almost the end of me. And I thought it was all you, I thought how and why. I was too stuck, stuck like a zombie, I couldn’t change, I only saw it as your fault, and I was frozen in it until the other side of it broke me.

            I don’t know what happened then, but I was petrified, couldn’t think, couldn’t move. And what you kept saying, BS, I couldn’t even fathom what that meant. I couldn’t understand why or even what; I just knew I couldn’t take it. And I ran, I ran but only in circles. They always came back to you, still angry and confused. And then that. I saw that, and then I saw, even though I couldn’t see through the flood. It killed and broke and tore and I saw. Watched what I did. But what I did was even worse than what I watched. It wasn’t just the one time, it was years of you watching and pleading and fearing, to someone you knew couldn’t listen. And that, that was the third strike that made it so I could never go back.

            And I’ll never be able to go back .That day is now burned in my mind, replaying any time I don’t focus my eyes. Because it’s when everything added up and exploded. When you finally took a stand for yourself, did something based off your own thoughts and not mine, even though it was still to help mine. And I was mad because I didn’t understand, because it was easier than seeing all I did. It was easier than reality.

And it’s supposed to get easier, and I suppose it does, but it’s the longest road I ever been on. I wish I could just forget, forget everything, forget the road I’m walking. Forget I was nothing. Forget being angry and confused. Forget being in anguish. Make it have never happened. And because I put you through it too, you deserve to forget it even more than I do. But now I’m stuck thinking of all I did to you. And every day I look at it again, and see something new, see another way I was wrong. And it doesn’t matter that I can tell myself I was young and irrational, either way I know. I know I was wrong, I know I always looked straight over you, straight to me. It was always me. Always me that was wrong. Because I look back, I see that was your way of trying to hold on to me. I see how scared I caused you to be, as you rightfully were, as I would have been if I was healthy enough to see clearly.

            So even now years later I look back. Even while seeing clearer I’m still stuck agonizing in the past. And wonder where you are. Did I leave as much an effect on you as you did me? I’d like to think so, to think that I was important, that I mattered. But even more I’d like to think not. I don’t want you to dwell on everything I put you through. I want you to forget it, even though I never can as I’m still stuck in it.

And if you ever think of me know that I’m sorry, if you ever think of me push it away and be happy.