It’s not God. It’s not… religion. But yeah. That amazing stuff. The books. Art.

My mom. Her suffering. Her job. Her sacrifice. Her DUTY.

MY DUTY.

We share.

Father’s duty.

Duty.

I finally know how bad it has been for her. And I still have no idea.

I want it quiet more. I just have to think quieter thoughts.

There are tricks and means to a peaceful life, I bet. I bet bodybuilding is not the only one. I’m sold it is. Please un-sell me. Or laugh at me and I’ll gun you down what have you.

I’m in so much pain so often. I never know why. I took my ibuprofen for the day. I just need to play tennis every day. That’s all.

Dad wants to with me.

But playing with him triggers me.

So I can’t.

It’s rough that it turned out this way.

Things aren’t how they’re supposed to be.

I think this family did not make it.

We’re in America.

But the dream is dead.

I’m sorry…

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