EAMON
Funny how people assume words stop hurting once you become old enough.
Like adulthood somehow makes you immune to disappointment.
As if turning twenty-five suddenly means your parents can no longer break something inside you with a single sentence.
As if the years between twenty five and twenty eight will make it hurt less.
I used to think that too when I was younger.
That eventually, people grow thick enough to survive each other properly.
Turns out that’s bullshit.
Because some words don’t care how old you are.
Some still find where it hurts effortlessly.
Behind me, Mom exhales shakily again.
“Eamon, please.”
I shut my eyes briefly.
There’s desperation in her voice now and somehow, that almost makes this worse because a part of me still wants to turn around.
Still wa
