The one I let go

I pledge never to let her have the upperhand again. Self-sabotage has been my autopilot for quite some time. Avoiding windows and mirrors and everyone’s eyes was my default setting. Measuring my words and calculating the echoes they create, my main worry. I had to let her go, free myself of the perceptions I feverishly held onto, consider them as nothing more than weight.
I still cross her from time to time. She stands, anxiously undecided on how exactly she wants to stand, where exactly she wants to go. Always teary-eyed, gaze unfocused, thoughts foggy. The same stubbornness, always obstinately refusing help. I get a lump in my throat everytime I see her. I don’t feel sorry for her, I feel regret. I should’ve treated her the same way she was determined to treat the world. With boundless care and botomless compassion.