She was a good mom. She was everything I ever needed or wanted. And cruel reality stole her from me, and she became something else, and I became no one to her, because she can’t see through her own tears long enough to realize how much it hurts me.
I wanted to be his life preserver, the thing that would keep him afloat. Instead, he became my anchor. And I’m tired of drowning.
It happened in pieces, tiny little turning points. I’ll never figure out when it all turned, because it wasn’t a single moments. It doesn’t matter how many times I look back, how many times I try to figure it out. There is no before and after. Just a year of choices.
People don’t understand us. They don’t understand me. They think it’s so black and white, that he makes me miserable and that I should be with someone else and that I deserve something else. But it’s not black and white at all. It’s gray. It’s a never ending world of gray.
I don’t know what happiness feels like anymore. I am dead to it.
You can’t change the past. You can only change the future.
All I want to do is pretend nothing is wrong and avoid it all, for eternity, but I know I can’t.
And just like that, the long, black tunnel has a light at the end, a shining beacon, and I feel a little less lost.