I don't talk about it all the time, but that doesn't mean that I don't think about it.  

There are days that I think about the first kidney donated to me. It was from my older brother. I guess I could say that it is from my brother. I still have it, even though it isn't working anymore. I feel like I borrowed something from him and forgot to return it. I also feel ashamed and guilty. I still am so pissed that my body fought against this gift. And, I am sure that he feels somewhat inept, like maybe he wasn't good enough? Maybe not so much, anymore, since it was 13 years ago. Maybe, he never felt that way? I guess I can't assume too much. 

We don't talk about it. 

I have dreams about my former step-father. I wake up angry and frustrated. I wake up wanting to inflict pain on him.  It has almost been three years and I still hate him as if it were three days. His actions changed people. My mother will never be the same. Her relationships will never be the same. I  will never be the same. I wish I knew what he honestly thought, not the lies he tells. I wonder if he is actually capable of feeling remorse. I will never know these things. 

We won't talk about it. 

Having children. Anything can set me off. A simple comment, a photograph, or a post on social media...it doesn't take much to send me into the darkness. I am not sure there are words to explain it. With the help of Josh though, I eventually get myself back toward the light. Most days...

I can't talk about it.