The hickey on my arm

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Both Mia's and my mom have been out of it recently. She'd call it irritable, I'd call it pissy.

At this point, it's been getting difficult to communicate with my mom. It used to be as easy as breathing. Sometimes she'd be the only person I'd ever want to talk to. Now, I never want to be around her. She always says the wrong thing or invalidates my feelings and worries. She's getting to be like my dad in the sense that she doesn't listen to me anymore.

My dad's getting married this weekend...

At this point, Mrs. Netta has just adopted me.

She's my mother.

I don't care.

Tuesday Wesley RayemondWhere stories live. Discover now