at some point

at some point parents stop talking to their offspring as children, don’t they?

this home, is no longer a refuge, and i hate the new house, and the new space which we do not need.

people ask, gee whiz c, what’s the source of all this anger?

why don’t you try, to have disturbed sleep everyday for 2 months, and wake up to the sounds of pounding and drills and tile-cutting? why don’t you try to talk to her when she cuts off phone conversations midway or calls you to yell in your ear about lunch arrangements, or him who assumes because he eats breakfast you do too, and insists on a happy chirpy disposition (when everyone who knows me knows to stay clear till at least an hour in), and proceeds to tell you how slow things are progressing and talk about responsibility and discipline before stomping off in a huff.

 

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Author: c

my world, out of your reach

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