I Don't Want to Write This

I remember the first time I heard you.  It rang in my ears and I knew it wasn't an accident and I felt it.
I felt your lack of presence.

I saw you waste away to nothing; a heap of graying flesh and bones.  I saw you pretend it wasn't happening.

It must have been tiring.  The excuses, the deceit.  Tip-toeing around yourself in order to keep the facade in check.  It must have been lonely.

I'm sorry you let this happen to you.  I'm sorry you let the deceptive nagging win.  I'm sorry I watched you break down.  Snot-faced and red-faced and crying.

It's like, I can't even help you.  I mean, you won't let me help you.  Really, you won't let me in.

You won't let anyone in because there's no room.  Because there's an ugly monster, gnashing it's teeth and rearing it's head.  And sometimes you let it loose.

Except, you're getting better.  Except, sometimes you falter.  Except, I don't know if you're healthy or taming.

I just want to know that everything's okay.

I just want to know that you're okay.

I just want to know, okay?