letter to a lost friend just before she disappeared | Emily Rogers

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they’re connected like delicately twisted string, not quite a knot and not so certainly entwined,
just existing on the same wavelength, the same spool of thread slowly unraveling into a pool of
red, tightrope walking over a future like rusted nails and shards of glass, a breath away from
falling. one’s doing handstands, fearless and wild, not belonging and not caring, forcing the
world to acknowledge that they exist whether it likes it or not. The other is quiet, barely tiptoeing,
progress slowed almost to a stop, hesitant and clinging to the past, unwilling to let faces fade or
people slide through their fingers, placing blame to avoid responsibility, rope burn scarring their
hands, remnants of the nooses they tied for their closest friends. they pushed people away to
save themselves, but fear the same fate, finding their comfort now in toxicity and doubt.

they’re two ends of a sliding scale, equal and opposite reaction, caution and recklessness
striking a balance, past and present facing off in a neverending standstill, battle of wills and
won’ts, how far they’ll go to hold onto what’s holding them down. how far they’ll fall with an
anchor tied to their ankles.

what happened? why were they wearing rose colored glasses when the red flags came up? why
did they look away when the signs fell in line one after another, and why did they plug their ears
when the sirens sounded, when their friends were screaming SOS, when their house was
burning down? they fell in love like walking off a cliff, straight into the sharp rocks will no regard
for the branches that could’ve carried them back up.
they doubt the people they cried and laughed with for a decade, the people that held them above water and forced them not to drown. they left them all behind for someone who’s taken over their life, cementing over the cracks they could’ve looked through to see the truth, and then they convinced themselves they’re better off.

it’s all a game, roll the dice and no one wins. try and talk it through so they can talk themselves
deeper into the grave they’ve been digging for years, using a crystal ball to window shop for
caskets, burying who they used to be for a future where they can pretend to be happy instead of
or leave it alone and watch it get worse, watch the best of them fade away and let it happen,
keep quiet to keep a connection you thought you’d never have to lose.

let the tattoo fade, because you have all the weapons but there’s no point in fighting for it now

Cautiously Optimistic instagram.com/blonderuby

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