I made it to Jenny’s with all of my things, still alive. I’ve made it out the other end of the domain issue right. Now just to make it look right. I made out the other side of another surgery, yes, in a lot of pain, but alive. I’m always going to to be in some kind of pain, so I might as well start getting good at it. It might be good for me to get a sense over the over loving and caring sense of family that Jenny and Chrissy had growing up. I always thought it was cheesy and that it had to be fake, because no family could ever get that close even for a day. Ours can barely be that for three hours in open air.

The more I think about it, on the off chance that I ever do fall in love, I’m going to have a family of friends. Gypsies, rag-tags and jugglers. As long as you’re a good person, and, if you’re able to help work to provide, you’re good with me. If you’re not able to, I understand that, too. I’ve been there. You’ve been accounted for, too. Look at me, building a gypsy caravan and Trump is building a wall between the U.S, and Mexico, and there’s a hole in my back where my muscles are trying to grow back together.

Dinner is almost ready, anyway,

Written by Breigh-Selina

I'm a writer living outside of Providence. I write literary fiction, short stories and novels. I also read, knit, and study herbalism. I love period British miniseries, and sometimes think I was born in the wrong century. I'm a fan of the Oxford comma and I can bake a badass cupcake.