I look at you and can see right through those eyes you have; all the defensive masks you wear do no good against me. Do you remember me, your first confessor? You have improved, I can say. I recall when you could barely look me in the eye, when you had to force yourself to do so. Do you remember when you almost lost yourself, back when? You don't have to pretend anything with me. But really, it's been quite a change since the last time I had a good, hard look at you. Finally growing up? Hm. I guess it happens to the best of us.
Don't do that to me like you did, or almost did, back when. You were almost lost for good. I worry about you, though not as much as your mother does. I admit there were times when I almost lost all hope in you. Almost. You've got more than a foot in the door, now, you have. Just watch it that you never get on your high horse about anything in the future. I'll be here and I'll always know — know what you used to be, what you did to yourself back when. And don't be a stranger. Sometimes what you need is just a nice quiet visit with yourself.
x
7:23am tuesday, 25th june
I think this is the best piece of writing you've shown us so far. It's truly personal and universal at the same time.
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