she brought me a case of Perrier and a case of clementines. and a few more nice things i didn't ask for. she brought a minute for a smile. eat some eggs, drink some tea, pretend that everything is okay. 'what should we get Becky for Christmas, this coffee is strong, how was the game last night Dad'.
i think he sees it in me, that i am realizing the weight of the day to day. but instead he said i looked healthy.
strange, i have never felt sicker.
it's like he knows that i finally know that this is all bullshit. he knows it too, but we smile anyway.
keep pretending, so no one asks questions.
'you are still not over it?'
..........
3 am texts, am i supposed to ignore the meaning those tiny words hold?
i crave for a night when i can pretend a little easier. let some cheap wine do it's magic, keep my head from working too well.
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