The Death Tarot Card

The Candle

God, I haven't done this shit in a while

Lately I've been going to meetings
Meetings where even though we all share the same experience, I feel like an outcast
Meetings where they would never verbally put you down, but they do so in comparing their relationship to mine

Meetings where we're supposed to be equal and everyone respected
And it's almost felt that way

But I barely get any words in
And once I do, I'm swallowed up in everyone else's stories, just pitching in when I can

And I'm aware of the reason for that
It's because she won't do anything

We're constantly stuck in this standstill of her not being here and getting high whenever she wants
Of us not knowing if she's okay, or alive, for that matter

Whenever she calls to ask for something is the only update we get
She's so infatuated with her that she can't see how bad it is
That when jumping out of a car and locking yourself into a bathroom to avoid being near someone, is justified somehow and okay the next day

And I hate myself
I hate that I don't feel anything
I'm not anxious or worried
I'm not sad or disappointed
I'm barely even angry

I'm just waiting for it to happen
To get that phone call
Because then I'll know when I break down, that I felt it all
I just never let it come to the surface

I listen to songs about orange juice and preach about how addiction is a disease, but I still haven't come to terms with the fact that I'm not enough for her to want to get clean

And I got used to her not being here and didn't bat an eye when she wasn't here for my birthday
But she showed up for Christmas, kind of
It was 2 weeks later, but who's counting

And I felt terrible
Because for the first time in years, she got me a present
And it wasn't something stolen or bought at the last minute

She made me a candle
A whole ass candle
And she bedazzled my name on it
And painted a bee on it
All for me

She actually took the time to make that for me
And she was so excited to see me get it
She explained why it looked weird and apologized, but though I wasn't smiling then, something inside of me was sobbing

Because, that- that was Amber
That was my sister

She liked little, cute things and got excited over stupid things
She was sarcastic and rude and never let me live things down
She wanted to teach me things and guide me to the best possible version of myself
But she was never clean and around long enough to do that

So instead she became the blueprint of what not to do
And I got hurt so much by what she did do
I hate to blame it on her, because I love her
But everything I can't do or have trouble doing stems from her

I didn't even get her a gift this Christmas, I didn't think I'd see her
I have too many memories of me getting excited and going out of my way to find her the perfect gift just for her to never show up, so I stopped looking for them

I'm so detached from her now
And I can see how she's trying to reach out; she texted me the other day just asking how I was
I didn't know how to respond, we haven't had a casual conversation like that in years

But I can't allow myself to be that girl again
I can't base all my happiness on her and hope she decides that she wants to get clean
I can't

So now I don't do anything, and when she comes over I avoid her
I don't want to get hurt again, and I want so bad to have my sister back but the person that comes in the house now, isn't her
I'm not sure who that is, but it's not my sister
It's a broken shell of who she was

I wish I could say that I'm unbothered writing this, and tomorrow I probably will be
But, truthfully, this is first time I've cried about it in months
I push everything so far down so I don't have to deal with it, and I know it's not healthy
But I don't know what else to do
So I welcome these tears, they remind me that I can still feel things, that I'm not totally numb

I told her when I graduate
Time, date, location, everything
And she repeated it back to me so confidently
But I'm not sure that she'll be there
I don't know if I even want her there, I know that I should but what if she just leaves afterwards?
What if she misses me walking across that stage because she's on the phone with her dealer?
What if she cries and says how proud she is, and I freeze? Or worse I break down in front of everyone?

I won't burn that candle
Not until she shows up to my graduation, and sends me off to college, and goes with me to get a tattoo, and comes to my 21st birthday
That candle maybe all I have left of her
So whenever it burns, it'll be a reminder that she's still here
And there's a chance for her to be in recovery

I'd much rather offer her orange juice than respond to her texts