Nine Days And Getting Worse
My mom is gone.
How can I stand it?
She was not ready. She had things to do. I had things to tell her.
It just gets more awful.
WTF.
No please. Make this nonsense not be.
Nine Days And Getting Worse
My mom is gone.
How can I stand it?
She was not ready. She had things to do. I had things to tell her.
It just gets more awful.
WTF.
No please. Make this nonsense not be.
When I was younger, I used to think that I was funny, and clever, and, above all, different. I also thought that other people thought so too, and some even liked me because of it. What I did not know, had no inkling of, was that as I got old, people’s perspective on that would change. The descriptions of me have begun to change. Now I’m sometimes “eccentric” (when people are being kind), and “weird” (when they’re being honest). I guess it is unbecoming in an “older lady” to be different, to be unconventional, unless you’ve made a career of it maybe?
Or perhaps their perspective, their perceptions of me, never really changed… perhaps they always felt that way, and I just never noticed. The fool, fooling herself all along. And that makes me saddest of all.
And now for a silly picture to lighten the mood…
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