My mother's death feels as though it will never get better. It's still a fresh wound, but I hate waking up sad everyday. Everybody says the first months are the hardest, but I want this feeling of longing to leave. I long for her to knock on my door again and bother me. When she was here, I didn't talk to her a lot, I didn't live with her, but I will never forgive myself for not being more open to her when I had the chance. Maybe it will get better. Maybe I'll heal with time.
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