Another sleepless night with mom haunting the hone with her cries of pain and illegible Korean chants. Refused to take her to Pot Zone, suggesting that she call her “friends” or to call a taxi. Part of me feeling like shit about it. Another part of me feel like shit due to the lack of sleep. But the commanding part of me is telling myself to hold my ground and to stay strong for the next few weeks.
I look and listen to this family in front of me and wonder if our family was like this. Mom and dad listening to Eric and I tell our stories while eating breakfast. Not for the first time I wonder when the family started to crack and divide. I am trained enough not to go down that rabbit hole. But not discipline enough to not stare at the rabbit hole and wonder.
I guess this one way not to brood and think about Suzanne all the time.
Can’t believe these are still around
Every military town has some kind of gun memorial.
It’s hard to see the marks on the glass where she tried to break it with the ash tray. To tired to so the teeth marks or the slight bruise on my head. Going to be like her and sleep and pretend nothing happened.