Page 10 - jesse book

I had managed to choke out the content of the dream to my mother. She had scoffed instantaneously, “Jesus Jesse that’s ridiculous! It was a dream, a joke from a dream no less. Tell your anxiety that’s not who you are. You are a good person!’.
How could she be so sure?
My mother, one of the smartest women I’ve ever known, was completely inept when it came to the strength of my mental illness. She had no idea that since I was 15 years old my depression and anxiety had worked in tandem to prove that I was a horrible person.
Now they had all the evidence they could have ever needed.
Listen to: “Funeral” by Phoebe Bridgers.