I remember that night, the day after Christmas
you began acting strangely around me and everyone
else. The way you made a swoosh, swoosh noise
as you dragged your feet down the corridor, but it wasn’t
your fault. Many people were wondering how you've
been and what you were doing with your life,
but no, you were not fine, you were not okay. I told you to tell
someone but you didn’t listen. You dropped out of school
and missed your high school graduation
for some hockey tournament in the States. Yeah, I’ll admit you
were very strange don't deny it to my face. Your daily
routine became sniff, sniff, sniff as you wiped your nose
with your index finger. That's when I knew, you my friend,
were on drugs. Nobody else noticed, but it sucked because
I did. But that wasn’t your fault you see...maybe those kids
shouldn’t have done what they did if they knew you were
going through shit at home. The thump, thump, ting I heard
wasn't your water bottle hitting the hardwood floor or the
baseball Jose Bautista gave you,
but the yellow glass bong you continuously kept knocking
down as you reached for another pinch full. That was your
fault. Every night I would hear the front door being opened
with a key. Shkk. Shkk. Followed by a loud bang as you
wobbled to the kitchen for a midnight snack, drunker than last
time. The next day you woke up at six in the evening, or as I
thought. Your eyes glowed pink with a hint of red, you
were high on the thought that maybe you should’ve
told somebody about those kids. Maybe not.
No that wasn’t your fault either.
But yeah, it’s okay now. We’re doing fine. The
yelling has faded and the house has become quiet once
again. You left with no sign, just packed your bags and
walked out the door. It's been years since you left thought,
I brought you a new set of flowers. But then again, all I
can hear is a loud bang and a scream. I guess that wasn’t your
fault either, huh?
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