Finally, I got the courage to speak up today.
It was a whisper, but it was a sound – an effort – which is more than I can say for you.
I'm sick of watching this house ruin your life.
There's too many memories you can't move from.
Too many drugs.
You can't move on, but can I blame you?
How could I blame you?
I don't want to.
If I didn't watch her die from innocent eyes just know that I'd be motionless too, and I'm emotionless, too.
But why stay?
What's 20 years?
What's one more day?
Just know I fear how this house ruined you would ruin me too.
So I made a pact today.
I hugged you goodbye and I told you "to get your shit together" and I left that house for good.
Now I'm driving around my hometown, one hand on the wheel, the other on my phone, writing this all down because it's the only way I can right now.
Because the feeling will stick around, but the truth is I've got no one else to tell this to.
I'm looking back at what I first wrote – "I almost stopped to write this down" – I'm a liar, I'm in a parking lot right now.
Christmas Eve, wishing things were different.
I'm a liar.
I'm not coming home.
