The fridge hums where your laughter used to be.

I found your old jacket, still smells like gasoline and rain.

I'm talking to the ceiling again, hoping it's a one-way phone.

But the silence is a judgment all its own.

I drank from your glass last Tuesday night.

Tried to feel the ghost of your grip, tight.

It just left a ring on the wood.

A hollow circle where something good... once stood.

And I can't be an embarrassment.

Not to you.

I see your face in every bad choice I almost make.

I hear your sigh in every promise I'm about to break.

You're in the ground, but you're the only thing that holds me true.

So I can't be an embarrassment to you.

They said "be strong," like it's a switch you throw.

You'd know it's a battle, that some days the strength just doesn't show.

I got the job. I almost called you. My finger hovered on the phone.

And the joy felt like a stone, sinking, completely alone.

I keep our photo by the bed, not to remember how you died—

But to remember the pride, alive, deep in your eyes.

That look is my warden now. It's my parole.

The anchor saving me from drifting out of control.

And I will not be an embarrassment.

Not to you.

I see your face in every bad choice I almost make.

I hear your sigh in every promise I'm about to break.

You're in the ground, but you're the only thing that holds me true.

So I will not be an embarrassment to you.

Is this what it is? This constant, careful weight?

Living a life that might make you nod and say, "It's okay. You're doing okay."

It's not for fame. It's not for them.

It's so that if you somehow saw me, you wouldn't have to pretend.

I WILL NOT BE AN EMBARRASSMENT!

NOT TO YOU!

I SEE YOUR FACE IN EVERY BAD CHOICE I REFUSE TO MAKE!

I HEAR YOUR SIGH IN EVERY PROMISE THAT I KEEP FOR YOUR SAKE!

YOU'RE IN THE GROUND, BUT YOU'RE THE ONLY THING THAT HOLDS ME TRUE!

I'M TRYING...

GOD, I'M TRYING...

NOT TO BE AN EMBARRASSMENT TO YOU.

Just to you.