Sidney Crosby sleeping with the Stanley Cup

this is saved on my phone for whatever reason.

Mom’s sick. Something inside, Killing her from The inside out. There’s nothing I can do about it. I distract myself, Change the course Of my thoughts from The misery. I’m good at distractions. Nobody can tell the difference. Sometimes I forget. I forget that she’s sick. My mind wanders, Is joyous. Do I have the right? I guess. Is it fair? Of course not. I feel guilty for Being so happy When she’s so Afraid. Afraid of what The doctor will say. I laugh with my Friends, And she cries in Fear. How can I be so cruel? I have not yet cried About it. My tears unwilling to fall. I can’t admit anything’s Really wrong. She gets sick all the time. Why is this any different? This time it could be cancer. Some nurse called. She wants mom to make An appointment with the doctor. Mom’s scared. She can’t get ahold of the doctor. I’m alright. I shouldn’t be alright. I’m scared to know. I’m alright with her Being sick. She’s always sick. I’m scared to know if it’s cancer. Scared to know She could die. Why is it so hard to Get ahold of the doctor? Mom’s not the normal patient. She’s dying. That stupid doctor’s not Doing anything about it. Not doing anything about That thing. That thing that’s Killing her from the Inside out.