beginning
My thoughts come and go. Nostalgia and guilt are regulars.
I guess its just my constant struggle for happiness.
I can’t sleep nowadays. I toss in between dreams forgetting one
after the other. Maybe they’re important if only I could remember.
My shoulders and arms ache from constantly shifting my weight.
My father is in the master bath. I am still in elementary school.
I hear his pain, I walk in to see him cringing over the toilet.
He just got back from a surgery that I know little about.
He tells me to go back downstairs. This is the second time
I see tears in his eyes.
Around 3am I give up on sleeping and head into the kitchen.
The house is cold and quiet. The air conditioning is a constant
stream of modern comfort. I step outside to smoke weed and
drink a glass of milk.
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