I could've been better

I could’ve been better. I could’ve seen more, asked more. I could’ve worked harder and longer to become some kind of role model. I could’ve spoken out about my concerns. I could’ve said something about the notes, the scars. I could’ve shared my fears of failure (it probably wouldn’t have helped though). I could’ve held in my judgmental looks when you made those choices. I could’ve made more eye contact when you were embarrassed. I could’ve been less avoidant, less passive. I could’ve tried harder to find that balance between hard and soft. I could’ve waited longer for you to get into the school, instead of leaving, allowing you to run off with him. I could’ve trusted you less. I could’ve told them about the secret under your pillow. I could’ve stopped comparing you to others your age. I could’ve hidden the scales for longer. I could’ve gone away, done something of myself instead of being fearful of leaving you alone. I could’ve gotten off my ass and shown you what life is made of. I could’ve tried to stop being so annoyed with you. I could’ve been honest and told you how I felt about the betrayal, instead of letting us move on from it. I could’ve hated you less, or moved on, or let go a little. I could be so much fucking better, but then again, so could you.