This morning I woke up from a dream where I was sitting on the couch in my current livingroom with my mom. We had our arms around each other and were chatting and she seemed sad. My dad came home and they exchanged some empty words, and he went upstairs; then, I held her and she started crying because they'd grown apart and would probably get a divorce if it wasn't for me. I held her a while, happy that I could be an adult daughter and a comfort, but so, so sad for her. Then I woke up and they were both still dead. It's probably about the job thing, but still -- I woke up shaking.

As always: love 'em while you got 'em, love 'em the best you know how. Be gentle: we are all so beautiful and so fragile, even when we are fucking up.