Dear human,
I know you do not perceive yourself as one, but you are. You can spend an eternity denying yourself and your existence, but you do exist and you are living, as unfortunate as that may feel to you right now.
I was sorry for a very long time that you felt the need to inject drugs into yourself to feel alive. I was sorry that you hated yourself. I was sorry for not being there for you. I was sorry, upset, and depressed at how everyone- myself included- had isolated you and potentially led to your destruction.
But now that I've been given a chance to help you, I can safely say I've done my part. I threw down the ladder and waited. You had your opportunities. You had the assistance. You had the information and the support. And today you threw it all in my face. Today, you told me I was dead to you. But that is okay.
It's okay because I know you're angry, desperate, and sad. I know you still hate yourself. And I know you're upset at me for trying to help you. I'm sorry that you cried today when I said the word to you - "meth" - and you had to hear the reality of your situation. And for looking at you like a human being, without pity but with the same belief you seek so desperately to destroy. I know it stings.
And I can't speak for you. That is your job. The fact that you finally reacted and spoke up to me, however negative or injurious you intended it to be, that means something.
But even if it doesn't. Even if one of us dies. Even if all things go to s**t, because sometimes they do and there's really not much we have true control over - I'm okay with that. I've done my part, however small it is in the scheme of your life and your future. That entire universe is up to you at this very point. And I'm okay with walking away.
Good luck, little human.
Much love,
R.