The Unfinished Letter - Empty Threats

Empty threats. That's what they were called. Empty threats. They weren't threats, they were statements. Statements of what I needed to do at that moment. What I knew I needed to do for myself and my mental health. But I couldn't. I couldn't because I didn't want to break a promise I made. I didn't want run away and abandon the situation. I didn't want to be like my parents. I wanted to be better. I wanted to fix the problems that I helped caused. So I stayed. Time and time again. But each time I stayed, I would only get cut deeper and deeper. It made me sad. Knowing that I was watching it end. I didn't want to see this end. I wanted to runaway and deny it all, because if I didn't see it end, then perhaps in a way I could have saved a small part alive. I was so confused, torn, and conflicted. I wanted to talk to someone about it, and when I talked to you about it, you only viewed it as threat. Never realizing that it wasn't that. It was just a way for me to vent and work it through aloud. I just wanted you to listen, understand, and acknowledge my fears and frustrations. But all you got was an empty threat. I suppose that was my fault for not explaining it better. But how's this for an empty threat: you'll never have to worry about me giving you another empty threat ever again.