Ugh, fifteen or fourteen now minutes before mom wakes up for work and I shadow her until she leaves. Dad didn’t make a sandwich for her this time because he has a dry skin problem. Really painful. Doesn’t sound pleasant. I wish nothing but recovery for him.

He was acting pretty nice to me today. He usually is, like, facetious? Or, ingratiating. Like, overly friendly. He was chill tonight. He should be like that more often. And the mention of mother just got this bitter voice out of him. They need to divorce, for both their sakes. They don’t understand how much happier they will be away from each other. I wish them to get divorced, and to live separate lives, because and so that they are more happy. Not necessarily alone, but with other people. Jesus. And getting caught in the middle of their fights is fucked up. It’s not that bad, to be honest, because I consider myself fairly tough. But it’s still awkward.

What else was I going to say…

Oh, well, what do YOU have to say, Edith? Piaf? Edith Piaf? *lush French vocals ensue*


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