And the hardest part is that I felt like something was coming. When he got moved into another room, something in me didn’t feel right. I tried to say something. I tried to make people understand that I was worried. I didn’t want to be paranoid. I didn’t want to be right. I wanted somebody to listen to me because I genuinely cared about him. And now that everything happened, I’m sitting here with this horrible feeling like maybe I should’ve been able to stop it somehow. Like maybe if somebody had listened, things could’ve been different. But deep down, I know I couldn’t control his choices. I just hate that I cared enough to see the danger but couldn’t care enough to save him from it. And now I’m stuck in my own head. I’m here trying to finish these four months, trying to do what I’m supposed to do, but part of me keeps asking myself, “What am I even going back to?” I’m not making money. I don’t have everything figured out. I don’t have a solid plan for what happens when these four months are over. I came here to change my life, but sometimes it feels like I’m pressing pause on my life while the world keeps moving without me. That scares me. I’m scared of finishing this and still not knowing what I’m doing. I’m scared of leaving here and falling right back into the same struggles because I didn’t build enough of a foundation while I was here. I’m scared of putting all this time into myself and somehow still ending up lost. And watching my friend get kicked out makes that fear even louder because now I’m realizing just how quickly everything can change. But I also know something. I cannot let somebody else’s relapse become the reason I throw away my recovery. I can be hurt. I can be angry. I can feel betrayed by what happened. I can miss my friend. I can be disappointed that the person who was supposed to be sharpening me is no longer beside me. I can be heartbroken that he not only hurt himself but also broke somebody else’s trust. I can cry about it. Story continues