Any minute now,
Someone is going to come and wake me up
And tell me it’s all been a bad dream.
“Shew,” I’ll say,
“What a relief.
I was having such a hard time making sense of it.”

It’s as if, in an instant,
I was warped to an alternate reality
Where “1 + 1 = 3.”

Now the walls and floors and ceilings
Don’t fit together right
And I am trapped
In this horrific carnival funhouse scenery.

I can’t walk straight.
I can’t see my way.
I keep crashing into the funhouse mirror,
The merry-go-round music is screeching,
And the world is laughing at me…

Written by my Mommy

This one really speaks to me. I know I whine about my pops a lot, but this is the feeling I wrestle with almost daily. I keep thinking one day I'm gonna wake up, and he's gonna be there telling me it was all a dream. 

It's weird, because it feels like if that were to true, life would get better and all life's problems would disappear. Even though it feels that way, when I set how it feels aside and look at life objectively I can see that I'm happier now than I've ever been and without what happened happening to me when it did, I never would've seen life or myself for what they actually were.

The feeling that I'm looking at a funhouse mirror is the real distortion being created by a funhouse mirror.

That's enough whining from me for this week. Thanks again for the lovely poem, Mommy! Cya next week!