Hindsight

12/13/20

L,

I haven't heard anything.

I stayed up far too much later than I should have and ended up sleeping for 13 hours. I don't remember why I woke up. I think I was having a bad dream, bur I don't remember.

I slept in your hoodie.

It was warm and still smelled like you. I forgot to pack it in with your other belongings when the pigs came back for them.

I took my meds.

Z and N are checking in on me. They know I blame myself for you getting caught. I know they are taking this hard too. Probably harder than I am. So I try not to make things worse for them by venting at them.

Now my thoughts are here.

I'm in my brain a lot. I don't know if that's a good or bad thing. It's crowded and dark up here. I keep replaying the memory of seeing you cuffed and led away by the pigs and kicking myself for not even trying to stop them.

I'm sorry.

I'm still numb to emotion, but not completely. I feel like I should be. Every time I laugh or smile, I can't help but want someone to slap me back into reality and remember what I caused.

I'm hurting.

I've had little appetite since they took you, but I still eat because I know that's what you would want me to do. I can't clearly remember much after you were taken. I feel like I'm floating through a thick fog holding a dying flashlight. I don't know what's real or in my head anymore. I don't bother trying to ground myself. I'm afraid of what I might find. So I stay in my head and let myself dissociate. It's a good time waster.

I love you.

Those words feel hollow. Empty. I want desperately to say them to you, to scream some kind of weak apology. But you can't hear me. I just want you to be safe.

Come back.

Remember when we worked together and you told me about the things your family did to you? I told you that you could stay with us then, but it wasn't the right time then. You'd be leaving too many loose ends.

This is selfish.

It feels almost like a story, all of this. We meet at work, you don't like me at first, but something bad happens and we grow closer. I become attached to you, hoping every day that when I walked into work I would see you. You quit, and I tell you how I feel. You escape your toxic home and come live with me, only to be discovered and dragged back into the prison you worked so hard to escape. I can't imagine what must be going through your head.

I'm alone.

N and E told me not to isolate myself. I'm coming to the realization that I still am, but I don't know that I am until someone tells me. It's a vicious cycle. I build a wall to keep the hurt at bay, someone tells me that I have a wall and it's okay to lean if I'm hurting, I tell them I feel guilty for hurting because you're far worse off, I feel guilty for dumping everything on them when this is hurting them too, I build another wall, and so on.

It's quiet.

I don't speak to people much anymore outside of work people. I try not to bother parent too much, and I try to only talk to Z and N when they talk to me first so I don't go down a spiral and drag them with me. I know that sounds selfish. I wish I were better. I wish you were here.

If only.

The voices keep telling me how angry you must be with me for failing you this harshly. The last words I got from you were when the cops told you to call me. N and E were there with me. E was holding my hand because I was shaking and N was steadying me with a hand on my shoulder. I thought you sounded angry. I didn't want to hang up. I didn't want to lose you. But I couldn't say anything because of those damn pigs over your shoulder. The tears came again when the call ended. E and N were so kind.

Forgive me.

Sometimes I wonder if you got the notes N and I left in your bag. I don't know if it was a good idea to leave them. I wonder what your reaction was, if you saw them at all. I didn't have time to write everything I wanted you to see. I wish I could have put my heart in that note.

I made so many mistakes.

I ran out of gas on the side of the road tonight after work. A pig came up to my window. I put on a mask and he asked me if it was because I didn't trust him. I didn't answer. I feel beyond guilty that I had to ask parent for help. It was cold and rainy and I didn't have any money for gas, so they filled my tank. I feel like I've asked them for so much already. I'm so cold. I should have brought your hoodie.

Too much too quickly.

I can't collapse the mattress. It's very deflated, but I can't seem to bring myself to sleep in my hammock. I guess I'm just clinging on to whatever remnants of your presence here that I can. I keep finding things that I forgot to return to you. Some part of me hopes that, if you come back for them, you decide to stay. My mind won't let me change much about my room. I fell asleep last night with the lights a different color. Close to fuchsia, but not quite.

I should stop here. This is getting lengthy, and this is probably super weird. I'm sorry. I hope that you're safe and that you can forgive me one day.

I love you.

- L