You are not my person.

When things get rough, I don't reach out to you. When I'm scared and in pain, I avoid you. When I am in a great space within, it's usually because there's a big space between us.

I appreciate you asking to help, but I know it means more risk. I know it means I have to agree with what you say. I know, ultimately, it's about you and eventually, you will be upset you can't upstage my illness.

The touching, massage and care you promise are not going to happen. No, you'll be asking me for more when you know I'm drained and desperately need care.

When shit gets hard, I don't call you, because you will make it impossible.

You are not my person. You do not have my back, nor my flank, nor will you take a hit for me. No matter how much you promise, I know now, you don't keep your word. Your words are for sounding good. Perhaps they make you feel good, but to me, they are a drowning man's trickery. I know you will drag me down with you. You aren't trying to save us, support us or grow together. You just don't want to drown alone. You don't care if it hurts my child, so I don't care if you are hurt. In fact, if you don't stop reaching and pulling at me, I will cut you off wherever I have to.