like freedom and peace and finally being able to breathe without waiting for the next disaster. But the truth is, even with her gone, she’s still messing with my life in ways I didn’t expect.
She still shows up uninvited, still refuses to take the last of her stuff, and somehow still has the audacity to claim I’m taking her things when she’s the one leaving them behind like little landmines. She texts me constantly, inserts herself into things that have nothing to do with her, and still goes to Tia for things she shouldn’t even be involved in. It’s like she refuses to let go of the control she used to have.
But the part that gets to me the most is seeing her posts. I know I shouldn’t look, especially when I know it’ll send me into a depressive spiral, but I can’t help it. And what I see makes me sick. She’s out with friends. She’s with Sarah. She’s with my niece. She’s living a life. And in my head, she doesn’t deserve any of it. Why does she get to be happy when she made me want to die? Why does she get to laugh and go out and live carefree while I’m here picking up the pieces she shattered? Why does she get the privilege of not worrying about bills or crying herself to sleep from stress? Why does she get the life I fought for? It feels unfair. It is unfair. And I hate seeing her with Sarah and my niece because that should’ve been me. That was supposed to be me. But she took that too.
And then there’s the jewelry box. My mom’s jewelry box the last real thing we have from her. It’s been in Tia’s room for safekeeping for years. Out of nowhere, Emily texts Izzy saying she wants it because it was “promised to her.” Girl… no one said that. She claims she wants it now because she “has jewelry,” like she can’t just go buy a jewelry box like everyone else. The truth is, it wasn’t promised to anyone. We left it for Dad because it was the last thing we had of Mom’s. And if anyone should get it, it’s me the one who didn’t steal anything. Sarah took Mom’s wedding ring. Emily took the other ring. I got nothing because they took it all. And somehow I’m the problem? She made that a whole dramatic moment too, because of course she did.
So yeah… I dreamed of her leaving. I counted down the days. I thought her being gone would mean peace. But even with her out of my house, she’s still in my life like a stain I can’t scrub out. I hate her, and I need her gone really gone out of my life forever. Because six months later, I’m realizing something I didn’t want to admit: leaving doesn’t mean someone stops hurting you. Sometimes the damage keeps echoing long after they’re gone. But I’m still here. I’m still healing. And one day, she won’t have this power anymore. One day, she’ll just be a chapter I survived.
Okay byeee, love you, go drink water and do something gentle for yourself today 💗
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