18.

I am old with living.

So much older than almost thirteen.

And things aren’t right.

Not at all.

Is Lizzie nuts

like Momma says?

(It runs in the family,

you know?

No, Momma, I

didn’t know.)

Is Momma?

Is it me who is crazy,

twisted tight with all of this?

So tight

I am not sure I can

breathe.

There’s been

a spiral in time,

things changing so

fast

I don’t know my sister

anymore.

Oh, Liz.

Stop that thinking so you can

come back.