realization

I wore that awful shirt, the bright green one with the bright orange flowers. Oh how I loved that thing. The room was dark. Thinking back, it was the last time we were all together. I remember the adults whispering how I was too young to be there, that someone should take me outside. If the me I am now could have talked to the me I was then, I would have ran from that room and never looked back. Instead I held her hand and whispered that I loved her. I don't know why it hurt me so bad. If I was allowed to wish, I'd wish that right then someone had noticed the frightened little girl. How incredibly selfish of me.

So what happened? I grew up in that hospital room, and no one told me it was okay to cry- and it never has been. That was the first time I felt pain, and I missed the memo on how to deal with it.

In the pretend world, I realize this. I pinpoint the day I started to become who I am, but in reality there's not much to be done about it.

For now, just realizing it is enough. One step at a time.