I watch her. From a distance of teenage angst. Shes sad. She has sad eyes. I know this, but im not strong enough to help her. I am weak right now. Or maybe im as strong as i ever have been. Either way, i do not have the energy to keep her afloat. At best, i can wave at her from the dockside as she flounders amongst lifes waves whacking her around.

I watch her. My child. My baby of five. As i prepare to bury my sick second born, my youngest struggles with all things around her. Navigating hormones and hatred, shes barely hanging on. I cannot reach her.

I watch her and i know what i should do.

I watch her and i feel sick myself.

I watch her and i do not have the strength.

I watch her.

I watch her.

I just watch her.