Normalcy is just a word that falls off my tongue and finds itself in a heap with the other words on the rational, human, loving.

I haven’t spoken with or seen my mother in four days. This isn’t a deviation from the normal cycle of my life.

It’s sad that we are neighbors. I’m just too exhausted to hear insults. This is a fragile week. The anniversary of his death is keeping my mind and emotions on pendulum.

I still haven’t visited his grave.

Part of me knows it will finalize everything.


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