i spoke to V on Sunday night for the first time in three? years. honestly, i wasn't really sure if we'd ever come back to each other especially since we haven't met often. but she's been there for me through... a lot of things. a lot of years.
i've been thinking a lot since then. the guilt and resentment weighs, thick and heavy and cloying. everyone was so worried. they tried to help but they couldn't understand.
there was a time where i didn't have the words to talk about myself. where i didn't understand myself. where i was more anxiety than myself. more scared of myself than anything else.
a time where the only thing i knew to do was to either lash out or hide it.
sometimes it's easy to touch and just imagine. what if, once more, would it help?
the scars may have faded but i know they were there.
there was (is?) a time where that was the only thing that helped.
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