“You helped me find the way”, they take another sip and look at me with gratitude. I know what that means. I know they’re not the only ones. There were many, and there are many more.
“I mean it,” they say.
It ties a knot in my throat. I feel like I’m not there anymore. I’m back to where I belong. I can’t speak. A single word uttered will leave me battered.
My words betray me as I struggle to form sentences. I sit there, mute, with a storm raging inside.
“I appreciate that,” I say.
I come back, and I don’t look back. I’m content, yet lost.
I close my eyes and hit the bed. The numbness gets carried away with the eyes bawling out.
The storm doesn’t rage anymore. I let it all out.
But the knot is still there. It doesn’t drown.
“When will I find mine?” I ask.
“When will I find mine?” I wonder.