Losing your mother at a young age certainly silences rooms faster than I appreciate.
"I'm so sorry..Ah...I didn't mean to"
Over an event that occurred 8 years ago. You don't fucking think I'm over it? But the sad truth is I'm not. The spirit of silence forces you into parts of yourself you'd rather leave untouched. You explore yourself. These moments define you to yourself. Your self-image.Which is why I avoid that as much as possible.
It's these moments I decide whether I deserve to mourn my mother given the fact my memories of her have almost conpletely dissisipated. These moments that I pretend to cry because I force her death to have some sort of emotional impact on me.But it doesn't. It never does. Maybe I have to finally accept that I am over it. And it has been so for a very long time.
