I wish my mother was like this,.I’d.actually read her messages. She just uses my phone number as her personal journal. I get dozens of messages a day about nothing. I have to mute her and check every now and then, scrolling through useless shit about—hang on, I’ll look at the last three topics; dogs and horses going to heaven, liking nature and not suburbia, the sermon at a mid-week church event—and make sure nothing important happened. I’ve told her to chill, it doesn’t work.