I’m sick, mama. And you are, too. You gave to me what they gave to you. Grandma used to say, “Time heals all wounds”, and I think so too, but mama— you break my heart every day that the Sun comes up and you haven't changed.
Your indifference and my pain appear in every chapter, always together, written on the same page. Sorta how I thought you and I’d be someday.
