Pg. 25

A script, written back in the day by me, was based on real people close very to me. This script never saw the light of day. However, I still feel the need to acknowledge the blatant asshole I now see in my young and “expressive” self.

Having gained some perspective on motherhood since, as well as some knowledge of the cluster fuck of mishaps and pain that life can throw at someone;

A woman who feels like she is dying on the inside and who is perceived as a disaster most days on the outside as well, but is still actually trying to be a mom in any way possible, because her love for her children cannot be undone by even the worst of events…

Even thru that pain and fog and a repeatedly broken heart and how affected she was.

Well, obviously I was stupidly unaware and not very compassionate.

Not to mention the writing itself was just pure shit.

I was 23. I knew nothing.

Now I’m 36, and I’m still trying to figure out this motherhood thing.

I’m sorry.


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