I finally told you about the pills and how I abused them. You seemed to be uninterested almost, until I said I shouldn't have hidden it. Then you decided it was okay to tell me it was alright. No encouraging words about how you'll always be there or how much you love me. Just a,"well if you feel guilty then you know it want right." Obviously I know it wasn't right. But that didn't stop me from taking them over and over more than I needed. Being completely checked out for hours because that was the only time I felt okay with the world. No questions either. No," why didn't you tell me, I would've helped you." And I'm not sure why I expected it. But then the icing on the proverbial cake was when you brought the subject right back to her, as if I didn't just tell you a huge thing. Like it didn't even matter. Like I didn't matter.
