August 15th

Writing

I fell flat on my face, the ground raised above my eyes and I felt hopeless. I didn’t want to get up the embarrassment was overwhelming. My mother reached her hand out and picked me up off of the ground outside of some store that I can’t really remember.

Fuck, I miss my mother she was my best friend like I’d fall or something and she’d be around to help me up and wipe me down. I remember when she would leave home and it’d just be me and my brother there and I’d be so scared she wouldn’t come back home. She’d always come back home though, she’d come back and give me a kiss on the cheek and hold me close in her arms that smelled of lavender flower perfume. She’s gone though. Sometimes I want to wake up and see her sitting on the couch and watching television and look at me and pat the dusty seat  beside to sit with her while eating my cereal. I’m too old for that shit though right? I’m too old to believe that maybe she is out there and maybe just left to take a break from the world. Then again she wouldn’t turn her back on me.

For once I’d like to wake up and just see her face or something. I don’t even care if this is literate or proper or sounds all fancy. I just wanted to write this for me.

When I was back in about 3rd grade I used to believe that maybe my whole life was just some insignificant dream that I was living out and maybe I’m going to wake up in some fucking way and be able to see everyone I loved faces again before they are gone or maybe they’d all just be back.

But I’m too old for that shit right?

If you think so, well fuck you.

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