So.

My mother wants me to come back.
. . .
This decision is completely mine. I've had a taste of freedom. Of my own space. Of buying food and knowing that when I go to the refrigerator to get it, it'll be there. Of being able to walk around naked if I choose. Of keeping my money, my time, my things, to myself. I can look around me and see my own walls. (Rented, yes, but for time being they're mine).

I know more of peace and quiet than I thought I'd ever know.
I know what it's like to only be responsible for myself.

All of that feels damned good.
Progress.
. . .
But, watching them from the outside is hard. They're getting out of control. She doesn't know what to do. No stability.
It's not my responsibility. It's not my job. But. . .
Someone has to take responsibility.
. . .
When things happen, and you have no control over them, you can sometimes get by them fairly easily. You can move on without too much thought.
When it's entirely your decision, it's different. You have to decide not only what's best for you but what's best for the people you love. Those decisions can be pretty hard sometimes.
. . .
So, do I lock myself into another year, and watch her fall apart from afar?
Or do I give all of this up, and take two steps back?

Mnh.
. . .

^{Don't forget to suggest more for the wall splash!}

. . .

That is all for now.