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Take a breath. Count to three.

Its been five months now.  James is ten months old. Chris is getting bigger and is always happy. I have a good job and i can live above my means.
So guess what.
It still fucking sucks.
I stood at my window smoking a cigarette and every thing around me was silent. 
And then i got that crushing feeling like someone was kicking me in the chest with a size 13 steel tipped boot.
I gave him a shot of Dayquil the day before.  Angry and frustrated that He wasn’t taking care of himself.  And even in my anger in the back of my mind it was like “you still care.  You still love him otherwise you wouldn’t try.”
I could have tried harder.
Thanksgiving was the first moment of emotional charade.  paste a smile.  Fake a laugh.  But be there for the kids.  And when it was time to eat, i did the honors of cutting the turkey…slicing the pernil.  Set a small plate aside with a glass of whiskey and put it by His picture.
Cause He always ate first and that shouldn’t change this year.
I’m tired. Very tired.
There is no life i know..to compare with pure imagination..living there you’ll be free..if you truly wish to be.

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