It turns out that she was trying to contact me all of this time, but got the wrong number. The realization just dawned on both of us. The missed chances. The warnings. The time lost. I suddenly became more of a 6 year-old who missed his mother than a 26 year-old who was angry. So much anger. So much depression. So much pain. It was easier to be miserable and pissed off at the world, especially my family. Maybe it's the burnout. Maybe it's the past few weeks. I cried hard on the phone. Normally, I would consider that a weakness. But I didn't care last night. We kept each other company only a mother and son could do. I missed her more that I knew at the time.
I remind myself of something I said to n0ire late Saturday night:
"It takes evil to know evil"
I've been dark. I've been depressed. I've been cruel. I've been indifferent. And it's not the fun kind.
Only three more days before I disappear into Northamptom. I hope this does the trick.