You asked me why I changed.
I didn’t answer you.
Because you were the answer.
When it ended, it was okay.
I was okay.
You were with her, and I didn’t have a problem with that.
I was happy for you guys. I really was.
But you hurt me.
Not by being with her, no.
But by not being there with me.
I was so used to having you around.
I’ve always been the strong one.
I’ve had to be.
Who else would be strong for my mum?
Who else would stop my sister’s tears?
Who else would spend nights sitting by dad’s side as he went through his reports?
Who else would listen to all those stories of heartache and sadness?
Who else, if not me?
So I stayed strong.
And then you came along.
And you let me be weak.
You let me be free, you let me be me.
You were my rock on a beach full of sand.
When you left, you took that away.
Now, I didn’t have anyone to help me up when I fell.
You weren’t there to calm my heartbeats when I was afraid.
You were gone.
And so was I.
I was strong.
But no one was strong for me.
So I stayed that way.
I didn’t show my weaknesses.
I didn’t show myself.
And I was bursting at the seams.
Finally, this facade that I had created around myself, it fell.
And I collapsed into myself, not knowing how to handle it.
I had done this for others.
Why couldn’t I do it for me?
I couldn’t do it.
I couldn’t stop the tears from caressing my cheeks.
I couldn’t stop the words brushing past my lips.
I couldn’t stop the ache in my heart that came with being caged for far too long.
And you weren’t there to help me up.