And The Walls Come Tumbling Down

It's been over 7 months since my last post. You'd think that things would have gotten better, that everything would have worked out, and my family and I would have stayed together. Life isn't that easy, or kind. I've, for the most part, stayed silent about everything that's happened. I've stayed silent about how my world, my life, was destroyed. About how hard I've been fighting. But I don't want to do that anymore.

First Comes Pain

We ended up not finding another place to go after our eviction. Still, I had hope that we would make it. That, somehow, we'd still remain a family. I should have known better, because the lessons life has taught me since I was young prove that you can't always have what you want, no matter how much you want it. I didn't know that Jeremy thought that I didn't love him anymore. That with how much time I had spent writing was hurting him. I thought that he was supportive, that he understood and stood beside me. I didn't see the jealousy that he carried over my books. Didn't see how much I hurt him, and I'm sorry for that.