One year ago June, was our final doom, a chaotic ending I barely survived, financial crises besides betrayal of a kind I can scarcely discuss. I can be in the same room as you now, but brief moments only, I don’t look your way, a decade plus of broken trust and a crumbling of everything built on sand, knowing I was grasping at straws, predicting that this was where we would land.

I’m wiser now, but my heart still aches to understand things that can’t be explained, and the tears still stream if I sit long enough and remember the space where you once stood. You were my friend, someone I leaned on, in a critical time in my life. As changes kept coming and family kept going, you were the constant back and forth.

A year ago June was the final act, and I started acting out; distracting myself from the pain of a severance and meeting others who told me nice things, not really believing the grass was greener, just hoping that honesty still was a thing.

All’s fair in love and war, that’s what they say at least, but after this last overdose, I need to detox and learn to breathe, on my own, no puzzles to solve, or hoping for miracles. Just me, finally, she’s been waiting since age 23.

Emily ©

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