The Point in Breaking

Six months ago:

One night I was sobbing on the floor of the living room. And he looked at me with such pity and disgust. I couldn’t stop.
It was probably one of those anxiety attacks that I never have-now that I look back on It.
My breath was all over the place.

It was feeling I was powerless to, except to feel it’s power. Uncontrollably.

I had snot dripping down and my eyes were so bloodshot and he said, and I said, I had to go.
It wasn’t good if Zeek saw me this way.

And so I walked out and down to the park inside the village and I laid on the grass while my heaves subsided and ten minutes later I felt panic.
He had left. He must have left with Zeek. I ran back and saw the car gone and I called him and told him to come back and I wanted to hurt myself if he didn’t. I begged him to come back. I needed Zeek.
He listened in silence.
And said okay.

I have never felt more panic for my son than that night.
The only man besides my father, that’s ever seen me that way.

And now I am in Canada,not Thailand.

There is a point in breaking, because if their isn’t, we wouldn’t reach a breaking point.

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