I have pictures

They have pictures...their faces I remeber, names on the tip of my tonngue


They have my son

Their son, really

I gave him to them. Because they could love him.They had the time, the ambition, the support and compassion of their family

Everything I couldn't offer him

But i have pictures,and stories

John likes to tell me them, when i ask. It's not that I don't remeber...because I remeber that day as brillantly as I could any other important day of my life

But I like to hear them. Like I wasn't really there

That's called disassociation

If I had a patient who came in, and she was talking like this..as crazy as this sounds,I'd have to call psych

But I talked to a shrink

It's not all me....

*beep*
Your father is furious with your behavior at dinner.He'd just die if he knew I was doing this...
*Beep*

It's all a show

Even John agrees with me.

If it has anything to do,or about them, it matters

Like my mother's need to patch up the fight

If I didn't know my family so well

I would say that was a plea of redemption

but it's not

it's just another chance to have it all happen all over again