I know I promised I would never do this again,
And I know it wasn’t supposed to get like that ,
But recovery is really hard work. It’s a war.
Meanwhile I’m just a weak little girl.
Maybe you thought our days of using water as meals and ice as subsistence
Really were in the past, not in the future
But I thought we were a team here- me and you together- and you
Were supposed to (wo)man the emergency brake
In case my mind got screwed up, again, and I lost control, again.
So body forgive me
People care now that’s it’s just a few years too late
And I’ve vowed to them that I’ll communicate more
But the only way I’ve ever known to do that is to write-
Only thing is I can’t do that. I’m too scared.
What if I spill the tea and it burns someone?
What if I give you a map to the rabbit hole and you fall down it?
How can I lead when I’m haunted by the fear that some poor soul will follow?
I’ve locked up the details that people either won’t understand at all
