:: flipping through the pages ::

You said we weren’t there to support you. Maybe we didn’t show it in the way you wanted.

We tried to show our concern but you said we were just asking for the sake of asking, and were being superficial.

We asked you if there’s anything that you wanted to share so we can support each other, but each time you passed the baton along and implied everything is fine and dandy in your life.

You made me feel guilty for not being there.

You made me feel guilty for not asking more.

You made me feel guilty for asking too much.

You made me feel guilty for not knowing what was going on in your life, even though you never wanted to share.

There was a wound you left.

Now when I greet you, you don’t answer me.

On good days, maybe I’m rewarded with a grunt or a side look.

You don’t participate when I ask you questions.

You make unnecessary and sometimes snide remarks to my face and laugh it off as a joke.

You made me doubt myself.

You made me feel silly for being affected by the things you do.

I thought I’ve forgiven you but now I don’t know if I can.