It's a nightly ritual, my mother and uncle sit at the dinning room table discussing their work day over smoking a bowl. He'll spend his entire day off with his friend television, and she'll clean as if she's trying to scrub the house holy.
In my room alone I gaze at my walls covered with painted emotion, recalling past memories with people who were once my world, and now, now they're not even in my world. I have only myself, everything else is transient. My thoughts roll over me like wa... read more