this is potentially diving into the “too deeply personal to share” territory, but maybe that is more of what we need. the wearing of our hearts on our sleeves. the grass isn’t always greener, an admittance: i have no green grass. it’s splotched.
i am 29 on the 9th and all i can think about is how i have a sister who i will, completely and without a doubt, never see again. she is alive and even if i see her, i will not really see her. it has settled in as the most recent news has gotten more dire. it has been over ten years since i have seen my sister, who even then was dealing with addiction. we knew, she knew we knew, but it was not brought up when i was around. performing my always on role as Baby Sister, some alternate reality where i never grew up. seeing each other was a rarity, we were in malibu, this place where you escaped to be beautiful, chase the sun. we walked the pier and had ice cream cones and i pretended i was blind to the folded foil, as if i did not know what was tucked in between.
i wonder and always will wonder if i could have changed something by saying something. i know things will never be okay, there is no chance at normalcy, even if by some miracle there was a recovery. i am in the stages of planning to plan a trip to see a sister who i think will not really understand who they are seeing. i am planning this selfishly - to say i showed up and said “i love you,” hoping it reaches the part of her who needs it. thinking i am powerful enough to change the course of her life in a way no one else could or can or ever will.
years ago, i wrote about all of this, but felt that sharing it too publicly would be an invasion, a breach of trust. again, i wonder now if i had talked more openly about My Sister with a Drug Addiction, if she would have been more pressed to seek help, to come home, at the very least, know how desperately i care. when you love someone with an addiction, you’re always left wondering what you could have done, what you can do, but ultimately knowing there isn’t anything.
there is no closure in helplessness. i can be grateful she is still here, alive, is ultimately living a life based on her own actions; there is something to autonomy, choice, etc. i can, at the very least, expose imperfections + maybe make someone feel supported, comforted in knowing they’re not alone - we all have that “thing” we’re going through. xx
Yes This is Me speculating and usually i would feel some sort of guilty but you will not tell Me a damn thing
i read articles about drug addict overdose party recreation pill blend cocktails and i read the comments and what they say: Sad Pity You Choose if at First You Don’t Succeed Try Again to Overdose Die.
i get so angry but Choose not to say a damn thing, never do i want to spill your secrets for you. Who are You i wish you would tell but i can’t even get a confirmation of your safety please Tell Me You’re OK is all it takes i know you take
i do wonder what it’s like, if you think that you could die and how the risk is worth it
i wonder where my version of You goes when the substance slip streams inside or if my version of You is what i’m seeing now, but i guess there is no difference since everything i know of You is through some click-touch screen
i know somehow it is already too late i will never see You again and i prepare for The News i’ll have to hear about you
Somewhere You are still the Cool Pretty one putting chopsticks in my hair, i love you i love you 30-something year old Dream
🤍
I miss her so much. I miss "us." Family isn't the same without the 3 Musketeers, the 3 Rugrats. My Swee'Pea, Ladybug and Dillpickle. Sad today. I love you for eternity and more, Tay.