The planets dance, sending off energy that they will eventually demand in return. They give, only to take. Produce something of value, or risk their wrath. For now, I do not worry about being depleted. I feel half-lost in a living nightmare. My shield is noticeably broken. I am in a vulnerable state, yet unafraid. This exhaustion is a drug, and it keeps me from feeling.
I grow closer to the children. The children grow closer to me. Their mother grows closer to death. She could not handle her emotions, so she opted to drown them out with methamphetamine.
Sister hides her eyes in shame, or I avoid them in anger. We are so much alike, choosing self-destruction often. But I am clean, and this creates a sense of self-righteousness that drives us further apart.
I was foolish enough to think that everything was taking a turn for the better. Sister found herself employed. She spoke of future plans with determination and enthusiasm. Everything spun out of control so rapidly. She is rarely home, preferring the company of any man who is willing to give her attention. When she is home, she sleeps the hours away.
Summer is waking up. The birds pay no mind to morning hours. They sing when they want, or as they must. Flowers perfume the atmosphere, they color the landscape. But my sister, she slips into Winter.