To My Sister and My Father

Thu, 01/04/2018 - 23:40 -- TaShaeW

“You’re not that good of a sister you know, if you were a better role model, I wouldn’t be like this” and right there, I began to question my purpose. What was I here for? Am I supposed to be the guide in her life or live my own? I decided to live my own while she lived in depression. I never gave advice when she needed it, because it felt like  my advice was never heeded, her secrets I held, her stories I would never tell. Little did I know that would make all the difference to a helper and a hinderance.  

And then she became angry, and we would fight, then she became sad and we would cry, then she became isolated and I didn’t care, until the day she took flight and I was scared. I’ll never forget the day she ran away from home I’ll never forget what it feels like to give up on Love like I did on her that year.

My biggest fears started to surround me, the demons I personally battled gathered around me

And dared me to move


Day by day, one day at a time, they said, Just Pray they said. But I didn’t pray, I just hoped. That maybe one day things would get better, that maybe one day the world would stop spinning for just one second, so I could catch up with it. But it didn’t. It spun faster and I could feel it, like it was trying to eject me from a world where people reject me anyways, but instead of spitting me out, it spit at me:


“I don’t need you telling me what to do or how to live my life, I’m grown.”

When my father struggled with his love for alcohol, I struggled trying to figure out whether he drank because he didn’t love me, or because he loved me too much. I felt out of place yelling in my father’s face about his drink, I don’t care if I’m only 16. This time I decided I wouldn’t enable, I would fight, because that’s what you do for the ones you love right? Or is that what you do with them.. He drank for breakfast, slept through lunch, drank at dinner, drank after dinner, and fell asleep drinking, then he would repeat it. It’s just beer though, I thought, it can’t possibly be that bad, . Until you open the glove compartment and out falls 3 empty flasks. Until that hollow isn’t empty, but it holds a bottle. Hiding alcohol the way he hid his emptiness behind a mask of happiness like I couldn’t see the glassiness in his eyes, “Dad please no!” but all he said was “I wouldn’t be like this if ya’ll didn’t stress me out so much” he put the blame on me, said it was my fault. Then he became bitter, and we didn’t talk, he became too weak to care to fight, until he ended up in ICU for a few nights. I’ll never forget the day he almost died, I’ll never forget what it feels like to give up on Love like I did on him that year.


So, to my father, I am sorry you saw me leave, you alone in a time of need. To my sister I am sorry. I am sorry that my apologies will never bring back your youth, that sorry will never bring back the real you, though you are physically here but only as living proof that when the ones you love enable you, it’s no different than betraying you.


This poem is about: 
My family


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