I remember when I first broke up with my ex, the first time. He was devastated, and I know what that feels like. When everything hurts so bad, so bad, and the only person who can help is the same person who is hurting you. I wonder if I ever told him that I understand what that’s like, because I really, really do. And if he doesn’t know that I understand, I can understand why he still hates me.
The uncertainty of my poor poor brother when he tries to talk to my dad, he knows that the love is earned rather than intrinsic, even though no one has ever admitted it, and I don’t know if anyone even consciously knows. My mother is the kind of woman that would let her doubt become a static behind the scream of the lies she tells herself over and over, and my father doesn’t have a mind big enough in that regard to imagine what his wife does while he’s away on business. But he knows my brother is not his, subconsciously, and has never loved him as such.
Also, I’m ridiculously ambitious. I’m glad that’s coming back into my life, actually. I just flipped to a browser that had a bunch of extra work in it. OMG. There is a lot to do today, I might bail.