some days it hits harder, like when i realized the only thing left to do was scroll through old photos of a time when laughter came easy and now silence wraps around me like a blanket, and i can’t shake off the thought that the friend i should have called last month might not even recognize my number anymore.
sitting in my cramped studio, the peeling paint and mismatched furniture always reminds me how far behind i feel. my friend just bought her first house, and i keep scrolling through her posts while thinking about how my biggest achievement this year was remembering to change the cat litter on time.
sometimes i just think about how my old journal is filled with words i can’t show anyone, memories that are fading, like trying to hold water in my hands. the other day i opened my contacts and felt that weird emptiness, like every name was just a reminder that i don’t have anyone left who really knows me.
sometimes i just think about how my old journal is filled with words i can’t show anyone, memories that are fading, like trying to hold water in my hands. the other day i opened my contacts and felt that weird emptiness, like every name was just a reminder that i don’t have anyone left who really knows me.
so my daughter got pregnant at sixteen and somehow everyone thinks it is my fault. like parenting is a lottery and here i am watching billionaires in space while i just try to figure out how to win the next round of life.