so back in the day, when i was 14, my mom started dating the neighbor guy.

his name was luis.

and he was awful.

he beat up my mom.

and threatened me and my siblings.

and he scared the shit out of me.

but i was 14, so i don’t think i really knew what the heck was going on.

i remember hating my mom at the time.

i remember wishing he were dead, and then hating myself for having that thought.

i remember wishing i was normal, with a normal family.

and i also remember the day luis killed himself.

actually, i guess it would technically be the day after he killed himself, because i didn’t get the phone call until the next morning.

i was still in braces. and i was at a sleep over at my friend heather’s house.

i was sitting at her kitchen table.

and i think it was my great aunt who told me.

he had hung himself (in jail no less).

and i remember that i didn’t cry.

and i remember hating my mom when she would make me go to the cemetery with her in the months that followed.

and she’d get so upset at his grave, and i’d wonder why she seemed to care more about this guy than me and my siblings, who she had left.

and then, when i was 19, my highschool-boyfriend Bob died of a drug over dose.

and it was awful.

i remember that when i found out i feel to the ground because i couldn’t control my body.

and my mom was there for me. she sympathized with me like few other people could.  

but i still don’t remember having any sympathy for her.

and tomorrow (Friday) is the tenth anniversary of Luis’ death.

and i don’t care.

im not sure if that makes me a bad person.

but i think sometimes, when bad people die, it’s ok not to care.

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