You showed up again.

Of course you did.

Always a few steps behind, always with that look like you wanted to say something but didn’t know how. Like you didn’t see the limp in my step or chose to ignore it — like I was someone you could fix, or worse, follow.

I warned you without words. I thought keeping my head down was enough. But today… today I tripped. Today you ran up like a hero in some tragic scene, and I snapped before I could stop myself.

“Are you happy?” I said. “Does it feel good, following the cripple around like I’m your charity case?”

I didn’t wait for your answer. Couldn’t.

So I kept walking, even if it hurt. Because if I turned around, I was scared I’d see it— that look that said you didn’t mean harm.

That maybe… you cared.

But caring doesn’t make it easier. And I don’t know what to do with that.