She arose so tired of this feeling

No reason for anxiety to live inside, life is manageable, right? As they, all say.

It’s an overwhelming feeling driven by never reaching a finish line. Never being able to let go. Never finishing the ride.

Every Saturday morning, mom would rush off to a part time job and he would, I can’t remember. All I remember is we would ride. Riding our bikes down this one hill. I can still feel the sun. The brush of my jogging suit across my legs, the breeze. Not cold or hot. Just there.

I never knew how the morning progressed to that point. I wonder if I’m suppressing in an effort to get to the good part or the change.

The remaining memories are disjointed and unorganized. There was a fall. A skinned knee. Mom coming home. Us in a car under discussion of changes. Me not caring. And then we were gone.

So many missing pieces and confused pieces.

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