Past Lives (Part Five)

It wasn’t like she was a danger to others . . . just herself, and she wasn’t cutting herself with razor blades or relaxing before bed by playing Russian Roulette, or anything like that.  She was “only” drinking heavily, and establishing a pattern of increasingly questionable decisions both while drunk and sober.  Granted, the drunk decisions tended to be more . . . extreme and frightening (mostly of the “following strangers to isolated areas” variety), but even the sober ones often came with a sense of worrisome entitlement on her part. (“I can’t believe I got a ticket for driving around a barricade in an attempt to drive up a blocked off street; I was only trying to get home without going out of my way!”)

At one point, she had asked me for my help in turning her life around, and I gave it freely . . . too freely, some said.  (Let the record show I did realize up front there was an excellent chance I’d never get my money back.)  Now, after a few months of heroic efforts on her part, she was spiraling out of control again, and had told me in no uncertain terms to mind my own damn business.

And . . . after due deliberation . . . that’s exactly what I did.


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