32. 33. christ.
i'm embarrassed of myself. i'm ashamed. at this point it isn't just a benzo fuckup. it's a relapse.
i messaged you at what, 1 in the morning? asking for forgiveness. apologizing for wasting your time. apologizing for letting you see my bad parts.
how did you respond? that you wished i'd show you more. talk to you more. let you help me.
you are so good. if an angel exists, it's you. and you see so much in me. things i can't see in myself.
to the OTHER you, the other one i bothered last night. how are you so good at being my brother? no questions. you just get it. it's like we're the same person sometimes.
every fuckup i have, you're there to get me to smile. every sadness i have, you endure it with me. everything i am, you accept. and even when i tell myself i don't deserve it, even when i lay out the evidence of WHY you should leave me. . .
you never will.
thank you. both.
i swear i'll stick it out to be the person you know i am. i'll wipe the tears from my eyes just like i am now. i'll nurture that ember, shield it from the wind. you give me reason to.