"When you move back home, you're moving into the smaller bedroom."
This is what the stepmother said to me today.
I am struggling and it shows. I really really need to get a second job in order to live any type of decent lifestyle. I feel like a vagabond.
I am really trying hard to keep it all afloat and give that carefree, easy breezy demeanor which seems to be working until you get close to the Monet and you see all the paintstrokes.
It really hurts me that she would say that to me. But, then again, I don't look to her for empowerment.
On days like this, when I blast John Coltraine's "Naima" over and over to make myself feel better, I wish I could.
I wish I could.