Being the rock that someone clings to
is nowhere near as fulfilling as it sounds.
I love you, but
there's not a single part of me that likes you anymore.
I can't waste my life and my happiness,
hard-earned and still fragile,
talking you down from the same ledges
over and over
and panicking when you climb back up.

Don't get me wrong, I've been where you are.
I've been lost, scared, and drowning,
but as comforting as that is to you,
I would never do to another person
what you've done to me.

I can't carry the weight for you.
Nobody can.
And telling me that I'm the only thing keeping you alive
isn't sweet or appreciative;
in fact, it's terrifying, manipulative,
and disgusting.

Am I a bad person for never wanting to speak to you again?
Am I wrong to abandon you in that deep place
to save myself from falling back in?
I may be your friend
but I’m not your therapist.