Mom, I’m tired

The thing about Vi so that she’s been through a lot. She’s seen a lot of shit, met a lot of people. Basically, she hasn’t been sheltered.

Can I sleep in your house tonight?

And she’s always there to help. Even if you just need another hand to get you out of bed in the morning, or a soothing hug to keep you from talking for hours. A meal when you’re too manic to eat or a hardass to keep you from getting into shit you shouldn’t mess with.

Mom, is it alright

You suspected you were bipolar, but you weren’t exactly sure. Vi had been working on getting you to a professional, maybe on the path of a diagnosis. She loved you, but if meds could be prescribed, it would make both of your lives so much easier.

If I stayed for a year or two?

Vi just needed you to be better. Even if it was just for a little bit. She knew you didn’t exactly love the situation you were in, and after, she wouldn’t ever have to talk about it again.

Mom, I’ll be quiet

So once again, you’d come to Vi for guidance. It was true, she’d seen it all. She’d battled with depression most all her life, anger issues too. Her sister was BPD, and just living in the undercity was like a whole-ass seminar on how to get by with people dealt a bad hand.

It would be just to sleep at night

Of course Vi would help you. How could she not? If you needed it, she’d do it. She just hoped she could help get you back on track.

And I’ll leave once I figure out how to pay for my own life too