concept: i am eleven years old and waving from a school bus to strangers. people glance up at me and scowl. they are too busy. a passing train: a woman catches my eye for a split second that will last forever in my mind and waves, keeps waving, even as she recedes into the distance. we both remember each other, and we both know there is no chance of reuniting.
Dads be like. I have trauma. I will never talk about or acknowledge this. One day u will come across a picture of my childhood and realize that I have a entire flesh and blood brother still alive who I have never mentioned or acknowledged. Anyway why dont you tell me anything about ur fucking life.
