It's been months in recovery.
I haven't cried on my bathroom floor in 229 days.
229 days. I thought I was fine.
But this feeling comes over me and I find myself slipping back into missing you.
Why did you do this to me? And your mom? And your little brother?
It's 2 am and I can't sleep.
I just keep hoping that this alcohol will wash away all my memories of you before you ended you. Ended me. Ended us.
That coffee shop still remembers me by name and they used to ask me where you were or how you were doing.. I guess my eyes hitting the ground was enough to make them understand because they stopped asking.
I wish you could come back, just five minutes.
Even if those five minutes were just a broken record replaying you calling me a "selfish *****" the last time I saw you.
Am I selfish?
I guess so because I never said what you needed to hear.
I was never enough because my demons had more power over me than I did.
I could never get rid of them and you knew that and you stayed...well as long as you could.
John. Your name sounds like an apology and coming home at the same time.
I wish you would'be stayed longer John..