I was just a kid when you started to slip away. I watched you try to escape your demons only to see them drag you deeper into your grave. I watched the weight vanish from your body, the life leave your eyes. I watched you try to hide your pain, but I saw the real you, the you that was losing the battle.
But I wasn’t going to let you lose. I needed to save you. Saving you was the only thing that mattered—everything else became background noise. I became engulfed in the idea that I was meant to save you. I swear God puts people in your life for a reason, and that was my reason.
For years, I was there for every relapse, every gut wrenching piece of news. There wasn’t anything I wouldn’t have done to try and protect you.
We made it through a lot, you and me. Today, you’re alive. Today, we don’t talk as much as I believe we should. Today, you want to forget about what happened in the past, and that means forgetting about me. But today, I can still feel it in my bones when you are having a bad day. Today, there’s a chill that runs through me every time I see you because I realize just how close I was to losing you. Today, we are just a memory to one another.
Sometimes I wonder what my life would have been like if I hadn’t tried so hard to save you; I wonder what your life would have been like. Would I still have this complex that needs to save everyone? Would your story have been any different without me in it?
Everyone thinks our story should be one of heartbreak and despair, but it’s actually one of courage, love, and strength. And if our story were to have another chapter, I can guarantee I’d be right by your side, fighting the devil with you.