I still think of you on occasion. I remembered two days and a year ago now, how you yelled at me across airwaves and first, punched me in the chest leaving a bruise in the shape of “I’m questioning the way you were raised” across my heart, and then bled me with a knife called, “Have you no dignity?” Three years, eight months. The holiday will always be bittersweet.
Emily. 21 now. UCSB.I like to stay busy and smile.
The universe is my limit.
