It's 2 am and here I sit typing. It's what I do when things get really bad. It somehow helps me make sense of the senseless. But, tonight there is no sense. Just an overwhelming feeling of failure and shame.
Sometimes, on nights like these, I will sit in Mom's room while she fights the pills that will give us all a few hours of peace, and know just what I will say here. Tonight, my words fail me. Sitting here looking at a mostly blank page, I realize that I have said it all before. I am still that person who complains and fails to do anything to make it better. And until I find a way to do just that, I have no right to the words that console me.