I’m not sorry

     In a lot of ways three months is harder than the first few days. In the first few days I had people who were there for me and who promised they would be there as long as I needed them. They were liars. The people I had known all of my life abandoned me because they couldn’t understand what I was going through. They couldn’t get over the fact that I had changed and that I wasn’t better, they took my words and turned them against me. They didn’t know my screaming had nothing to do with them and they were too shelfish to put thier pettiness behind them. They went from people I loved to people I cannot stand, people I want nothing to do with, but somehow it hurts my heart that they’re gone.
     It’s a bitter pill to swallow, to know they really didn’t change at all, I was the one who changed, I finally was able to see that they never loved me, only what I had to offer and now I have nothing to offer.
     I do still have some who will be there when I call out to them but it’s so hard to call out, I just need people who know that it’s okay to just show up and who won’t be scared away by my wrecked house, my tear stained cheeks, my knotted dirty hair.
     People who know where I’m at and know that I may never come back from here. People who can see the depths of my grief as a direct reflection of the depth of the love I have for my daughter, my Reason. People who won’t be offended by the fact that I would rather have no one in my life more than my baby girl. I wish I was sorry for that and maybe I should be but right now I offer no apologies. I’m not sorry for who I’ve become, I’m sorry for what’s made me like this. I’m sorry people can’t comprehend what I’m going through or where I’m coming from. I’m sorry that I’m not sorry.