It's 2:23 AM and I can't sleep.
It's hard to when I'm always wondering when will my mom look at me in the eye, really look at me, and ask how I'm feeling. But I also wonder what am I going to say when I exactly don't know what I feel. A part of me feels like she already knows that. And that part scares the hell out of me because that means she doesn't care.
It's hard when I'm constantly trying to figure what the fuck is wrong with me even though at the same time I'm aware of what they are.
I just wish my mom would take a really good look at me and will instantly know that I'm not the same like I used to before. That I always feel alone.
Because I didn't just lost a sister that night. I lost my mom, too.
YOU ARE READING
Somewhere In Brooklyn
Short Story❝He stutters, while she babbles.❞ Highest Rank: #8 in Short Story - 01/10/18 Copyright © 2016 Cher Manelle
