I never cared that your father was the weatherman in this small town. He still is. Every time I hear his voice on the radio I’m sick to my stomach. There are demons that chase girls like us. They teach us to fight back, to stand up for ourselves, to file reports, save other girls, and to love ourselves.
Posted in musings |
Ooo, somewhat cryptic but touching nonetheless. This is one of those notes that’s written totally on an interior landscape.
My internet hookup stinks right now. Prayer for Comcast. Prayer I don’t firebomb Comcast.
-cK