My Broken Home. I took this photo a couple of months ago in Madrid, New Mexico. I never guessed that I would relate to it so much at some point. Or at least I thought my relating to it was over.
It's been two days and no one knows where she is. I haven't heard from her. My Dad has given up on giving a shit...but even if he cared to, where would he start looking? I don't have the names of her "friends", I don't have phone numbers, I don't have any addresses. I can call the police, but they are not going to knock on everyones door looking for her...she would have to be stumbling about somewhere. I don't know what to do about anything.
Hope and Faith are all I have.
I'm still going to work and doing what I would normally do with myself to keep from going stir crazy. And still, everytime the phone rings I jump.
This is the waiting game I somehow always knew would come when I was younger...
VIEW 10 of 10 COMMENTS
It's a shame that everyone else suffers too, especially you.
Whatever is going on with her has to play out.
No one can control what's going on with her except her.
Still, it's incredibly difficult to stand on the sideline and watch.
I'm sending you all my strength.
Too bad I'm so weak....
I've no idea what else to say.