He insults me, little darts that aren't meant to hit or hurt anything. They do. They draw our class lines.
Mother's Day is a little painful this year. Starting to imagine what'd be like to say at 50 that I never had any children. Starting to feel a nugde towards wanting them. It's ok, he reassures me that feeling will go away when I'm away from all these people who have done their lives in the wrong order, in a few more weeks when I've graduated, in a few more months when I leave my hometown and see what the rest of the world my age has accomplished.
I mean really, what the fuck?
Mother's Day is a little painful this year. Starting to imagine what'd be like to say at 50 that I never had any children. Starting to feel a nugde towards wanting them. It's ok, he reassures me that feeling will go away when I'm away from all these people who have done their lives in the wrong order, in a few more weeks when I've graduated, in a few more months when I leave my hometown and see what the rest of the world my age has accomplished.
I mean really, what the fuck?