I been off my little helpers six months. Thanks guys, but goodbye.
I wanted them out of my life.
See? When you see things properly, everything's easier.
I just said
Now when I look in the mirror I see Good-Me staring back. And you know what? Good-Me approves.
Good Me knows it took some hurt to realise it:
That this is my life.
I will drive it how I want to.
And I won't hurt people and I'll try not to crash.
But I will drive it how I want to.
Good-You can come too.
I'll watch him running.
If I can make him leave.
I hate him.
He frightens me. His bullying control. It's killing me.
I want him out of my life.
For months I put off going to the doctor about my anxiety, but last week I actually went.
We talked. Truthfully: I cried, the doctor talked.
And now, as long as I take my little helpers every day, I see things properly.
I'm back in control.
He shrugged, packed and strolled out grinning.
This is alone.
And the only thing running is my mascara.