Rowan – My youngest son — the collateral damage in this mess. The reason I kept going when everything else was falling apart. I wonder if he ever sensed the turmoil running underneath our reality.
He was innocent, his mind frozen at age five. Keeping the evil parts of our life away from him was exhausting. In a twisted way, he was the lucky one. His cognitively challenged mind lived in a fantasy world, held in a bubble by an overly protective parent.
His smile was a distant feeling I kept chasing. I wanted to live in his world — serene, removed from the noise. No social media, no outside influence. Just his bubble: home, school, TV, video games, food whenever he wanted. No bills. No real dangers. Just a bubble.
Safe.
Or was he?
His eyes were deep and telling. Did he understand more than I gave him credit for? He heard the conversations. He never left my side. Did he realize the mess I had made of things? Did he know I failed to protect him from the catastrophe that became our existence? Was he aware of the implosion we were living through?
I don’t know what he knew.
I only know that I’m still trying to make peace with the version of me he saw.
From the mess, with honesty,
K. Unsupervised
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I'm Still Here. Somehow... 