Selfish

I still can’t help but get a little down when I think about a different version of him, the same him, who was equally as happy with other people than he is with me now.

It makes me upset that I couldn’t be apart of something he had valued then,
something he became apart of,
somewhere he made a home.

That particular part of him though,
is only a year from his life out of 17.
Did I miss out on much?

It makes me upset that other people made him happy that year,
other people gave him opportunities,
other people helped him create a path.

That particular path didn’t include me,
he didn’t choose to take it.
Did I feel responsible?

It makes me upset that he seemed genuinely happy then,
he seemed to carry a permanent smile,
he seemed content.

That particular feeling ended that year,
I could see it in his eyes.
Did I change that?

It makes me upset that he’s sacrificed so much for me,
changed his life for me,
dedicated himself to me.

That particular devotion has corrupted his plans and rewritten his future,
because he chose me.
I made him someone else...

I did that.