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Thought Why can’t my mother understand that the shoes are not just for my feet but my heart, too?
What I need is to get far away from here, I say, but she doesn’t understand that I’m talking about this place of sadness I’ve been living in since March ninth, ’cause she starts crying, then goes into her room and slams the door like she’s given up on me.
My mom says my dad doesn’t talk about how he feels about stuff either. I’ve never seen him cry. So what? So, he has ulcers in his stomach. Oh.
Charlie, on average, girls say two to three times more words per day than boys and even speak faster—twice as many words per minute. The list goes on—
but I know she’s crying because sometimes a song can remind you of something you’re trying to forget.
The worst are the moments I forget that he’s gone and then remember.
and wishing I could stop seeing his face and hearing him laugh, and waking up sometimes thinking he’s still here.
Yeah, for now I’d settle for sleeping through the night and dreaming my way back to a little piece of normal.
but you’re gonna have a whole lotta makes in this life, ’cause you’re just that good, and it’s okay to be down and upset as long as you’re not down and out.