There was no Christmas.
Or Jake’s 23rd birthday.
I stayed in bed, teeth-gritted and shallow breathing, trying to stay alive.
Did two days and two nights in the psych ward.
Treat and street.
(Mostly street.)
Should have stayed home.
Happy New Year.
________
Edited to add:
A few days ago, my mom wiped-the-fuck-out and shattered both her shoulders and broke her femur.
Will she EVER just. fucking. die. already.?
Stay tuned.
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