Journal

8/14/2020

Another day, another headache.

Mother was tolerable.

Father was tolerable.

My siblings were tolerable.

Where's the headache?

From tears over the silence. He doesn't call. He doesn't text. Not until I'm crying and begging for his attention.

He's off his meds. He's not got money. He's depressed. That's why he doesn't talk to me for days. Weeks.

He's black. They're hunting blacks, harassing them, arresting them, killing them, hanging them, calling it suicide. I'm scared.

I'm scared. He knows this. I still worry. I still cry. I still have to beg for his responses.

Cancel our plans and get your medicine.

Just stop being quiet.

Its all I plead for. Again. And Again.

I'm hurting. But I won't let go.

I'm not letting go.

So stop being quiet.