That weekend's over finally

It’s been a weekend of waiting to see if something will set me off. Crying at kleenix ads on tv and feeling a bit bereft all the time. No one notices, no one remembers. Rowe phoned last night just to see how its going and for a moment of bonding. It was nice to talk to her. Felt more at sea afterward if only because someone she works with remembered and asked how she was doing. No-one has, not yet, not at all.
Does that mean anything? Would it make it better if someone said something? Would I feel better if there was a shoulder to cry on? Would I feel better if I actually cried and got it out. I don’t know. It isn’t an option right now.
Instead I get static for being here and dealing with everything. For some reason it just isn’t as good as everyone wants it to be or expects. There was a little chatter from the junior classes about mom’s various fuck-ups with the school. At least I had it enough together to tell them to save it for Oprah or Dr. Phil.
I know I ain’t perfect. I can’t wait for everyone else to catch on.