My dad died of cancer when I was twelve years old. Who knows what kind; bladder, pancreatic, who cares. I just remember being a young girl, scared, going every fucking night and sitting in the “solarium” “white room” as I was too young to go into visit my “dying daddy”. Twelve, no brother nor sister, […]
via Mean Girls, I Had a Friend — A Rebellious Retiree
A Rebellious Retiree 