lucy and i seem to be in a similar place only thousands of miles away and only talking sparingly . . . not intentionally but perhaps more her intolerance of talking on the phone or similar. still plagued by the same persistent thoughts in quiet moments. the fact that the world has become a darker place, that all my relationships, my estimation of others has been forever tarnished by virtue of knowing just how wicked a person like that can really be. i had no idea a person could be so cold, calculating and ruthless in the pursuit of self preservation in the days, hours really, after their closest person dies. i’m mad at myself for not pressing the point harder when i still had a chance. i’m mad at myself for giving away the combination when i had no clue as to their motivation. destroying the evidence. i’m mad at dad for not figuring this out when he had the chance. did he just believe too much in others’ willingness to do the right thing? there’s no way of telling now. all i have is my silence. the only power i have left. and there’s no way to tell if the old witch is dead, no satisfaction in it either. as lucy said, just the dreaded confirmation that there was never anything there, no love, no instinct to protect your weakest, your most in need, so clouded by resentment and petty jealousy of your fucking children that you can’t even see you became everything you always hated the most.
ding dong