مولد صوت AI مجاني Joe F من Fish Audio

When I was 12, my appendix burst during a school field trip. The teachers called my mom's office repeatedly, but she was in an important meeting and told them to handle it. My sister ended up being the one who came to the hospital.

When I was 12, I broke my arm at gymnastics practice. My mom was at a wine tasting and told the coach to just drop me at the emergency room. I sat there alone for three hours before my aunt finally showed up.

When I was 14, I collapsed during track practice. My dad rushed me to the ER while my mom was at her yoga retreat. The doctors found internal bleeding, but mom just texted "keep me posted" and continued her meditation session.

When I was 12, my appendix burst during my piano recital. Mom was too busy at her wine tasting to pick me up. The neighbor drove me to the ER while I was crying in pain. Mom texted later asking if I'd made it or not.

When I was 12, I broke my arm at gymnastics practice. My dad was supposed to pick me up, but he was at a business dinner. The coach called three times before my stepmom finally came, two hours later, complaining about missing her book club.

When I was 12, I broke my arm at gymnastics practice. My mom was at a wine tasting with her friends. The coach called three times before she picked up. She just said "Take her to urgent care, I'll sign the papers tomorrow."

I really miss my mom too, you know? She's back in California, and we mostly just text these days. It's weird how life gets busy and suddenly you realize it's been weeks since you had a real conversation with someone so important.

We watch the rain fall and call it sadness, a sky weeping for our losses. But clouds don't feel grief; they simply grow heavy. We project our broken hearts onto the weather because silence is too loud. Sometimes there is no message, just water hitting the ground.