From my first year on this planet, you were in my life.
You gave me sustenance, made me feel good, kept me quiet, helped me sleep, and made things easier for my parents.
Since I have known you, you were at every holiday, and almost every meal.
In my family, you were a star.
The first time I heard someone speak ill of you I was seven.
I didn't understand.
When you were so much a part of my life, how could you be a bad influence?
I began to notice people, not just in my family, but on the tv, doctors, Oprah, etc. saying things like too much of you was a bad thing...and they needed to cut you out of their lives.
My mom would question our relationship frequently, yet kept you a star in the family, and never stopped talking about you, obsessing about you.
It wasn't until I was in middle school or so, I realized my relationship with you was unhealthy.
We spent too much time together.
At birthday parties and sleepovers when I had to share you with others, it would cause panic in me...as if I wasn't going to get enough of you.
I began to notice that my friends didn't feel the same way about you I did, you weren't always on their minds, they weren't always thinking about the next time they got to see you.
I began to hide our relationship, but I could not hide the effects you had on me.
As I got older I began to evaluate our relationship.
I tried many different times, many different ways to let you down easy.
I always went back to you.
I was addicted.
Now you are gone for good.
You are not coming back.
I will need to learn to live without you.
There will be inevitable moments that test me, and I will want nothing more to reach for you, but you won't be there.
As your memory is fresh, people will ask me about you, how I'm living, what I'm doing without you.
I will tell them the truth.
Much like a sapling being shaded out by invasive weeds, I needed you to die in order for me to grow.
I need better nutrients, and to not be held down by your weight.
In your death, will come life. My life.