Creative Writing,  My Writing

I Miss You


I don’t blame you for leaving me.

Anyone else would have done it, I know that. A lot of other people have done it. Will continue to do that. It’s a cycle. One that your kind have taken comfort in and ultimately that is all that really matters to you. The rest of us, be damned. You sought out your own comfort. You didn’t have to, but I knew from a early age when you decided to educate (terrify) me about them that should the situation arise that I was going to end up in the cold somewhere watching your car pull away from me at quite some pace. Doesn’t mean that when I found out I didn’t plan on keeping it from you as long as possible. I didn’t want to be forced out and abandoned. I wanted to be around you for as long as possible. It was just my ultimate misfortune that meant that the morning I found out had to be the same morning that I forgot my keys on the kitchen table and you had to step out onto the street and call after me. You caught me and you did what I knew you would do.

I was left with a bunch of people who were also left on the doorstep of this particular building and just expected to get on with it. We all did. I did. I fit in with these people in a way that I know I never really did at home and never would have had I stayed and kept my true nature a secret. It was probably for the best.

But that doesn’t necessarily make it any easier.

I miss you every day. Have done since you left me here. I see things that still remind me of you to this day even though I am sure that you are different person to the one that you were when I was 11, and every time that I see something that brings back these waves of memories I am also hit with an overwhelming amount of sadness. Because I don’t know you anymore. I can’t just pick up the phone and call when I see these things. I can’t just drop you a text when I want to know how you’re doing, how your day was, if the other two are doing well and keeping in touch. We don’t have that kind of relationship and even though I know why we don’t, that doesn’t mean that I can’t miss it.

I realised the other day that I don’t even really know if you’re still alive anymore.

Can you imagine how terrifying that is? Although I guess maybe you do. Maybe you are in the same boat as me. Wondering whether I am okay. Wondering if this change within me made or broke me. Maybe you don’t think about me that much. You probably had your hands full with the other two. Maybe you just hoped that neither of them also turned out like. I guess once it happens once then you worry that maybe the whole thing might just be genetic. Maybe they did turn out like me. I don’t know. It would probably be quite smart to not drop them off at the same place as me because that would have been awkward.

Were you honest about me? About what I was? Where I went?  How did you break it to them that I wasn’t coming back? Did you prep them for that possibility for them? Was there a moment when it hit you what exactly had happened between us? Was it even a second thought for you? Or did you ponder and fret for the whole school day. How long did it take you to pack up everything that you deemed essential for me and then make the appropriate arrangements? Did I ever stand a chance of being allowed to stay?

Would you want to see me now? Does it still bother you? The fact that I’m one of them. I have mastered my abilities. I have relatively good control of it these days. I only tend to use when it needs to be used and I never really use it for anything bad. I have done for sure, but I don’t do that so much anymore. There was a learning curve of course, as there was for a lot of puberty, but at least I was around others who knew exactly what I was going through. We were all at different stages. We all nurtured and helped each other through it. It’s for that reason that I am glad that you didn’t let me stick around. You were rightfully scared of me. I did some terrible things in my mid-teens and you wouldn’t have been able to deal with that. In fact honestly, it might have killed you. And I couldn’t have that blood on my hands.

But I still miss you. I still wish I could just call you. I wish you were the audience for the all great things that I have done in my life. I wish I knew if you were okay. If the other two are okay. I wish I could just pass you on the street one day in this busy, busy city and just have to notice me in the crowd. Have a twinge of sadness hit your heart as you remember your oldest daughter. Know that we both know that we are out there in the world and that we are both doing fine.

I miss you. I don’t blame you for what you did, but I have missed you every day since you did it.

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