Note: I actually wrote this, but did not publish, 5 months ago. Things have changed since then.
Nearly 2 years since I cut contact.
Want the truth?
Every single day, I wish I could go back.
Never really understood the concept ‘One day at a time’ until this experience.
I look up info about family members online. Some I wish to show evidence of suffering – because honestly, I think they deserve a taste of this.
Others; evidence that they might miss me. Or think about me once in a blue moon.
Nothing. I’m not missed – my leaving was their biggest relief.
I lie here on days I’m too incapacitated to distract myself with busy-work, and the memories roll on by.
This is me, surviving.
I thought a golden dawn was beyond the crest of the hill.
When does it hurt less?
I’m too tied up with an immature sense of how things should be.
Mostly, I just wish they could have suffered