I think about you all the time, I just don't write. Sometimes I think that it will ruin a perfectly okay day. . . . Not that writing to you is awful, just deflating.
I was okay. I was okay for four weeks. There was a little bit of hurt but it was tolerable. Now, Mom, I don't think that I'm okay. Every part of my body hurts. Every part of my spirit hurts.
I miss your love. I miss your validation. I miss your laugh. I miss your hugs.
Love you so much Mom.
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