A few weeks ago the doctors told my mom that if she didn't quit smoking, she would die. So, she quit smoking, right?
I just walked into her bedroom to find her smoking. Everyone else in the house knew already, I guess. So now I'm two kinds of upset.
I don't know if the good and the bad have to balance each other out, or if it only seems that way to me. It doesn't matter I suppose.
Lies and deceit. Addiction and death.
But dont the flowers grow from the ashes?