A little, yeah. I wouldn’t be a good mom for her. I don’t know how to act as a mom. She needs a real one who loves her unconditionally and won’t ever leave her. I just really wish she had a mom. It’s not fair that she doesn’t. It’s not fair at all.
She’s a little girl. She needs a mother figure and she’s latching onto you. I guess it’s up to you to teach her motherly shit and all that. Then again, don’t listen to me. I’m not great with the whole ‘motherly compassion’ shit.
Well because I’m only her aunt, and she doesn’t actually have a mom.
Right, right. I suppose you’d feel a little uncomfortable with stuff like that.
I’m afraid one day Emma is going to call me Mommy instead of Line.
Why would you be afraid of her calling you Mom?
That’s one way to think about it. Or you could think about the fact that with each breath, you’re being kept alive for a purpose.
What a bunch of shit. We’re breathing because we’re set on default to do so, not because we have a purpose.
My policy on lying, scumbag mothers is to bash their faces into a table until they either stop moving or kick you out. Least thats how I dealt with my bitch
Yeah, I’m good to go with that. You got mommy issues too, huh?
The good things in your life, like people who love you, or the clothes on your back, or all the breaths you’ve taken since we’ve started talking. Joy stems largely from thankfulness, in finding gratitude for what you do have instead of what you don’t. Sometimes it’s hard to do, but it’s possible.
Breaths are just intakes of air — air that people have polluted with bullshit.
Everyone’s got a reason to be unhappy – believe me, I know – but we’ve all the choice to be joyful regardless. Perspective is a powerful thing.
Where do we channel that joy from, then? We’re all so fuckin’ unhappy, are we meant to, like, shoot happiness outta our asses?