dinner
every now and again, there are moments when we look like a normal family. i get invited for dinner and im forced to see you again.
i didnt sleep well the night before, your hands soothed my head and you asked how ive been. i try not to cry as you massaged the tension away. i grasp at the feeling of hope, of love, of dreaming that you will finally change
dinner, conversation, mom.
on the way home i make sure to stomp at that hope with every step of my walk back, so that i will no longer get hurt when you eventually remind me of who you really are.
it frustrates me, that i will never stop looking for your love. why will you not give it to me?
i am not surprised when you message me the following day asking for money.