I know what they say about me. I always know. I know they crowd around, earnest expressions etched across their made-up faces, their mouths flapping as they spout their supposed wisdom to you.
“We will be here for you. You have always got us.”
“If you are unhappy there must be something wrong.”
“It is not right to be treated like this.”
“You are not the person you used to be.”
Who are they to claim what is right for you? Have they held you on that cliff-top with the foaming ocean churning beneath us, the cool Atlantic air brushing past us as a canopy of stars hung overhead? Have they looked into your eyes and seen the pain that I know was there long before I came along, a pain that I have shouldered for you? Where were they when you called at 3am and asked that I tell you…
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