You called me from the hospital, sharing how lonely you were. I almost didn’t take your call.
I knew if I answered, I’d feel guilty for not being with you.
So, I stood at the top of the stairs, phone in hand
looking down at the friends I was excited to meet up with.
I paused for a moment,
contemplating driving back to L.A. to be with you.
I convinced myself you’d be fine,
and then convinced you of the same.
Now, I’m here in LA. Everyday. Living my life.
Some days I want to leave this city, but feel I can’t.
I wasn’t here when I needed to be. And in some ways I’m still trying to make up for it.
You needed me that night, and I didn’t come.
I drive past Cedars all the time now, looking up at the floor you spent the night alone in...
You were scared and coming to terms with something I hadn’t yet.