Fuck. When did I become such a little bitch? I’ve been through tough shit before. Carlos’s suicide. My parents divorce. Real shit. So why the hell is it so goddamn hard to function now? I stare out my bedroom window. The sun is shining. The autumn leaves have turned from green to a multitude of yellows, reds, and oranges. By all accounts it’s a beautiful day. And it’s a lie.
