I remember when I tried to help you do the things you used to love, the things you used to be so good. The things that you used to think you wanted to do for the rest of your life. The same things that made me noticed you, that made think of you the way I used to. Now I know the truth and somehow I feel like its partly my fault for not helping you get to your feet, and helping you have the strenght to walk on your own.
I want to move past this stage of life, I want to move past all of this and onto the next thing, but it scares me that when I get there I might not want to be there and I might want to move past. What if I keep this up until I've let life pass me by and haven't enjoyed a thing.
I just need time.
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