What the fuck is wrong with me. Jesus Christ.

This is what being pissed and sad and upset does to you. Holy Jesus fuck.

I was raised in a house where people don’t cry. You just shut the fuck up and bear it, whatever it is — physical, spiritual, mental. You don’t cry. Ever. And if you do, you do it when nobody can hear you.

But this morning, my father was talking about Cadbury, and how he doesn’t seem to be getting any better, which I’ve noticed, and tried to deny. If you want to get me where it hurts, bring up my dog. My boy. My sayang. Sometimes, my only reason for going home. The love of my life is brown, furry, and has four legs, and he often smells quite bad.

Jesus Christ, the moment my dad said that. Just, fuck. Runny nose, tears streaming down my face, the works. I can’t do this. I can’t.