I roll my eyes at her.
Get over it, whiny child.
You’ve got love, and a roof over head.
Who cares if you don’t feel like you?
Clothes strewn about the floor.
***** dishes piled in the sink.
Children staring at a screen.
Deadlines catching up.
Snap out of it.
Cries for attention ignored, as they should be.
You don’t deserve help.
You’re acting like a little *****.
And she remains transfixed.
Ignoring signs.
Distracting herself. Talking to strangers.
Indulging in self pleasures.
And writing words.