crazy to think some of us will die before we have our 24th birthday.
or that one day im gonna hold my kid & they’ll never know that their mom used to have a drinking problem or hurt people or went upstairs with boys that didn’t know how to spell her name. I’ll be their mom who makes them waffles when they’re sad & it’s 4 am & they can’t sleep. I’ll be their mom who’s past won’t matter, I’ll only have loved their dad & not some boy who left me behind in the middle of a road with a flick of a blinker & not a single look back. I’ll be their mom who taught them to say yes mam & no sir, never the wild girl who chugged out of champagne bottles & kissed boys because it made her feel wanted even if she was just used. I’ll be their hero, not some crying drunk staggering to her car at 4 am.
which will I be: will I be dead in 5 years or someone completely different in 10