art

I turn in confusion. I see the shadow of the man in the yard. He is a tall man in a hood with a scarf over his face. He is in fact my neighbor who is supposed to be at work. He is doing things for his wife in the house, and I believe he is the one that was calling out a few days ago. He doesn’t like me because I won’t fix what he broke last year. I don’t understand why he would call today. He has been trying to get me to fix things, but I am not fixing my problems today, I will be out of work and he will have to pay me.

I think I just might not care what he thinks about me anymore. I am tired of him. I am tired of fighting. I am tired of fixing, and I am tired of getting paid. I am tired of doing well, and I am tired of not doing well. I am tired of being a part of a broken team. I am tired of being the best thing in my house, but only having my family see me for a few moments in the evening. I am tired of a broken home.