I wonder if my family ever talks about me.
We donât speak, but sometimes I watch their little dots move around the map. At home. At my nieceâs. At my grandmaâs. To Cracker Barrel, then back to grandmaâs.
I did everything I could for them, but still never managed to be who they wanted me to be.
I will end up an unfinished foot note in my familyâs ancestry. Such a strange feeling.






















