Her Daughter Was On The Verge Of Suicide. But She Was Pleasantly Shocked When She Sent Her This.

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries, took the bus home, carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment and... Her Daughter Was On The Verge Of Suicide. But She Was Pleasantly Shocked When She Sent Her This.

Yesterday, I spent 60 dollars on groceries, took the bus home, carried both bags with two good arms back to my studio apartment and cooked myself dinner.

You and I may have different definitions of a good day.

This week, I paid my rent and my credit card bill, worked 60 hours between my two jobs, only saw the sun on my cigarette breaks and slept like a rock. Flossed in the morning, locked my door, and remembered to buy eggs.

My mother is proud of me. It is not the kind of pride she brags about at the golf course.

She doesn’t combat topics like, “My daughter got into Yale” with, “Oh yeah, my daughter remembered to buy eggs.” But she is proud.

See, she remembers what came before this. The weeks where I forgot how to use my muscles, how I would stay as silent as a thick fog for weeks.


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