saw the nursery today and remembered how perfect it looked, like every detail was in place, but now the car seat is still in the car, collecting dust, and i can’t shake this emptiness, this absence that feels bigger than my house, bigger than my heart, like a haunting silence i didn’t ask for.
the other day i found an old jar of buttons that used to belong to my grandma, like from those clothes you loved but never wore, and it just hit me how many times i thought about calling her just to chat but i never did, now all that's left is this jar filled with colors and memories but no voices to go with them.
got my va claim denied for ptsd because apparently not having a paper trail in a combat zone is just so suspicious, i mean who needs documents when you have all those fun explosions right, like maybe my memories will start filing themselves once they realize the irony of it all, thanks for the helpful tip, really.
got my va claim denied for ptsd because apparently not having a paper trail in a combat zone is just so suspicious, i mean who needs documents when you have all those fun explosions right, like maybe my memories will start filing themselves once they realize the irony of it all, thanks for the helpful tip, really.
sitting on my lumpy couch in this dim apartment—barely making ends meet on a salary that seems to vanish before my eyes—while my friends post pictures of their vacations and new cars, all i can think about is how i threw away everything chasing that one last big win at the casino that never came, like a fool staring at a blank screen in a dim room waiting for a call that never arrives.