The Blame Game

The Blame Game

You blame me.

You prepped me for my interview that ended up having to be held in your car in the middle of a Hurricane on the west coast.

You ignored the call about my new job offer when you were at the shoot in California.

You edited my resignation letter and brought boxes to my cube at work. 

You perfectly packed all of my pink dishes and made sure my original prints fit in my silver car. 

You offered to hold onto my larger pieces of art, like the vintage photo of Pioneers making there way across the west, and my bright red Keurig.

You watched my mom and me pull out of my narrow spot at Oceanside Apartments for the last time. 

You blame me. 

You blame me for not being there, for breaking us with distance, for putting us in this painful situation. 

You never asked me to stay.

I blame you. 

<3 M. 

The Irony Of It All

The Irony Of It All

The Choice

The Choice