i’m really sorry: about how your life is probably shitty, because your dog ran away. i’m sorry my bus goes past this poster, every fucking day, but there’s never enough time to take down a number. but even if i did, i don’t know your dog. i haven’t seen it. there’s not much i can do.
but i’m sorry i couldn’t fix you. sorry i gave up solving other people’s problems the spring of 2018, which was just yesterday and also a lifetime ago, somehow, so… yeah, that’s crazy.
i’m sorry your life didn’t go the way you wanted it to so desperately, your starry nights toned down to a dark, oppressive grey. i’m sorry that it’s been a long year already, and twelve-year-old me was kind of a mess, which feels like a much bigger deal than it honestly is.
and i hope someday you know how much it hurts, to watch you spin around and around in your hamster wheel of misery, and know there’s nothing i can do.
because i have my own life. and more than enough issues. and i’m not a therapist, i’m not your mom, i didn’t sign up for this, i don’t know where your dog is.
and i don’t have room left for sympathy. i’m tired, and scared, and really fucking lonely, and i have a lot of learning to do. i’m not perfect, or allknowing. i don’t think i ever will be.
so thank you, for loving me, when i know it’s not easy. when i curl up into a ball, and just rip myself to shreds, and text you late at night because i can’t stand the sound of my own voice. thank you for listening, when i thought you wouldn’t.
and it will never your responsibility to fix me. i hope you know that. and if you need to keep yourself warm first, i understand. but you need me, i have armour, and a sword, and i’ll stand by your side, to defend this frozen wasteland.