to drink coffee with a ghost

by Amanda Lovelace

you wanted me to adore you most of all, so you handed me prettily wrapped lies in the hopes that i would hesitate before trusting anyone besides you. - not even myself.

i wonder if anyone would be surprised to find out that i came out of you searching for the scent of smoke, which really just ended up being the smell of you. - something toxic.

no one ever bothered to tell you about the sad type of daughter & you did everything possible not to see her.

you did not have a medicine spoon filled with poison. you had no gun. no knife. no ax. no belt. no ready hand. however, the weapon you did wield proved to be equally as dangerous. - your words.

i walk the thin line between nostalgia & trauma, never fully knowing the difference.

what do we do with all the things we need to say to someone we’ll never see again? - maybe that’s why i write.

my trauma doesn’t get wiped away just because it’s inconvenient for you to love someone who was also capable of causing others pain.

comfort is not more important than my journey to healing.

people keep asking me if i love you or hate you. the answer has never been as simple as yes or no. of course i love you, but i hate so much of what you did. - tug of war.

for the first time, i will allow myself to believe that the best can & will happen to me, instead of the worst. - life doesn’t have to be a horror show.

sharing the same family tree doesn’t often make people stay. find family in the ones who make you laugh uncontrollably. find family in the ones who take your side but also talk you through your wrongdoings. find family in the ones who would hop on a plane & fly across countries the moment you needed them. find family in the ones who rejoice in you, especially when you’re unsure of yourself. find the ones who will face the fire with you. - they’re your real family.

you are not a disappointment. you are not the culmination of what people expect of you. - life is not a pass or fail.