if you look at a lot of my old writings, there’s an uncanny sense of feel to them. Its crazy to wonder if I wrote my future. 

example: I have a story called “My daddy wears camo” - the mother gives birth alone. and the father is out on deployment. but atleast that story has a damn happy ending -_-. 

found some old letters from 2 years ago when mom and i were depending on my grandmother for survival. sheesh grandma made me an angry person. all i can say is thank god that is not my life anymore.