"[My mom] lives on a Havasu reservation in Arizona with her new husband and three replacement kids. Oh, and she inexplicably mails me a cactus every Valentine’s Day. And I’m like, “Thanks a heap, Coyote Ugly. This cactus-gram stings even worse than your abandonment.”
I notice everything. And by everything, I literally mean everything. I notice when someone stops hitting me up like they used to. I notice when the way someone talks to me starts changing. I notice the little things that people do, and the little things they used to do. I notice when things change, and when it’s no longer the same. I notice every single little detail. I just don’t say anything.