Save you

I wish I was able to save you. I know that is my sister’s role: the caring, innocent, savior friend. She is molded by the weight of others’ problems and her own insecurities. It’s endearing, really. I am not that person. I can save you, but unlike my sister, I live on your side. I know how things work here: how time is like oil, how sound is aqueous, and how thoughts are like bullets from AK 47s. So I don’t save you. If I save you, then I will be alone here. As time seeps on, you will forget the Veil and the Quiet and your thoughts will organize, still. Suddenly, I won’t be the sane of the two but I need the comparison to convince myself I’m ok. I can live with this guilt as long as you’re crazy with me, but I’d still like to save you. For what if the Empty swallows you? Then I will know that I could have told someone the Dark was gnawing at you. But I didn’t. You’re still here now, but you won’t be soon. Because I am too selfish to save you.