Finally, I got the courage to speak up today. It was a whisper, but it was a sound – an effort – which is more than I can say for you. I'm sick of watching this house ruin your life. There's too many memories you can't move from. Too many drugs. You can't move on, but can I blame you? How could I blame you? I don't want to. If I didn't watch her die from innocent eyes just know that I'd be motionless too, and I'm emotionless, too. But why stay? What's 20 years? What's one more day? Just know I fear how this house ruined you would ruin me too. So I made a pact today. I hugged you goodbye and I told you "to get your shit together" and I left that house for good. Now I'm driving around my hometown, one hand on the wheel, the other on my phone, writing this all down because it's the only way I can right now. Because the feeling will stick around, but the truth is I've got no one else to tell this to. I'm looking back at what I first wrote – "I almost stopped to write this down" – I'm a liar, I'm in a parking lot right now. Christmas Eve, wishing things were different. I'm a liar. I'm not coming home.