The thread for flipping shits (and tables)

I can't trust anyone

I've got an hour's worth of recording I should transcribe. A lot of it's silence, or admonishment; (I'm finding myself compulsively counting things again) Mother dearest asked for my passport today. 'To keep it safe,' she said - she exploded when i said i could handle things on my own HOW DARE YOU! You can't handle things on your own when you're so clearly broken

Daddy dear: 'i wonder what trauma must have happened to you to make you this way; i'm so sorry you turned out like this we should have paid attention to you more' DADDY DEAR please please no you couldn't understand every time we talk it ends up like this is it any wonder i won't talk to you anymore and sit here counting things (164 books on the bookshelf, ~820 english words per spine, 18 yellow lights from the apartment building across from the sports field and the highway - sweet oblivion, maybe! - 336 flashing lights in that neon sign, 26 fixtures on that wall) the only trauma here is the one you're inflicting on me and i don't want to hurt you you are the best daddy ever ever ever but you won't understand every time you bring up God and his plan it's another nail in that coffin and you're trying to help and I can't explain why you're not because it's too painful and every time you bring it up I can't help and I can't explain and I can't it hurts too much and it'll all go to waste because it already did i tried i tried i tried i'm so tired i just i don't want to wake up tomorrow

the bank can't do anything right i've got to go down there tomorrow and get that done, and it's already so late i can't got to get out but it'll hurt them so much i'm hurting them so much just by existing i'm hurting them i've got to go one way or the other; yes, yes this is a cry for help, because cessation is too sweet; too sweet