All these words I wish I could say to you. I can’t force them to reach you. And all of these nights I wish I had apologized. I waited until it was too late. All of these times where you were by my side, although I turned away. I wish that these words could reach you in a way that I had never said. I wish that I could prove to you how sorry I was, and that I didn’t mean anything bad. But still, I wasn’t in a good place, and I was unbearably sad.
Mental illness is nothing to mess with. It’s nothing to be entirely proud of; at least, not in my eyes. Of course, I will always be honest about my mental challenges, and I’ll be grateful for the strength they give me in the long run. I’m just not one of those people that can say I’m proud of the illnesses. To me…illness is not something to be proud of, though survival is.
I made it. I survived. And it’s been so many years, I wish I could see your eyes so that I could know what you thought as I thanked you for all you did for me. Trying to help me in my darkest moments, and I regret turning the other way. I resented it all, and that’s something I can never take away.
However, it’s in the past, and there’s nothing I can do about it now. Perhaps I can just find a way to move past it and live in the present. Maybe there’s a way that I can let go of all these little scrapes and bruises. These small wounds that have neglected to heal over the past eight years.
Still, I wish there was a way to say thank you, for everything you did. And if I could do it again, I know I would.