Sometimes it’s hard to be home.
I’ve gotten used to it mostly, but then something will happen and remind me why it was so hard before.
I’ve gotten used to the not being alone, and basically having no privacy.
I haven’t gotten used to the manipulation, chaos, and emotion.
It’s funny the things you don’t notice when you aren’t there.
I have to sit and watch these people take advantage of my family, of my parents.
It’s killing me.
It’s hard to choose family over family.
It’s hard to walk in to my mom’s room and find her crying.
It’s hard to see the toll things are taking on her.
It’s hard not being able to do anything about it.