She Left Home For Good

And she said she needed something more. She said friends were great to have, but only in passing. She said keeping close friends was never really something she did, nor wanted to do. She didn't need them.

I went to her house. I went to her house when she wasn't home, or so I told her.

I told her how I went to see her and found her father there instead. I told her how he said how much he really loved her. How he always loved her, so very much, but could never really show her, and now it's too late. She'd already been jaded. Ruined. Already seen the ugliness. She'd seen life in real time. She'd seen hate and felt unloved and unwanted once too many times in her short adult life already. She would never come around again. Her time had passed, and he missed it.

He told me he wished only the best for her and he was glad she finally came home. He didn't want to see her out there in harm's way anymore. He was glad she was home, but he was afraid still.

He told me how scared he was that she'd leave again. He said he knew he had made some bad mistakes. That he had done her wrong. But he was regretful. Remorseful. He wanted her to know how he sufferred while she was gone. He just wanted her home safe, where he could take care of her.

I told her all this. I told her how I went to see her and found her father there instead. I told her all the things he said.

She was unmoved. Unphased. Untouched. Emotionless now. She had gone past that far too long ago, and now it was too late.

Then I told her a lie was told. I told her the truth.

I told her I never went to see her. I never found her father there that day that didn't exist. He never spoke such words.

She already knew.

She left home anyway.

She left home for good.


Now she has disappeared. She lives in Long Island somewhere now. Close enough to visit on the holidays, but far enough that he won't come find her.

Far enough that she will find new friends.

Though, only in passing, of course.