ren-the-dreamer

And then I realize my dad had been working over, and my mom has been having health problems since last October and can't regulate her stress/emotions and is yelling at the cat who doesn't know where he is half the time. The stress of my environment has tripled in the last month.

Like "yeah, okay, cool."

I think so.

Would I actually be able to follow through with it?

...

My silence should be screaming.

And repeatedly sharing this sentiment or suggesting opportunities to do so is not helpful. It actually makes us feel much worse.

If it's cliche after cliche after cliche, yeah, sure, maybe that's something to work on.

Again.

If you are making jokes about fat people, you are fatphobic. I don't care if you claim to love them, if you have fat friends, if you're nice to them in public. If you're making jokes that demean, degrade, and belittle fat people, you are fatphobic and a dick.

Eating too much pasta.

Just an open wound in my chest, flowing red.

And I'm just sitting here like it's normal. Like it's okay. Because I don't know how to heal this.

I've gotten so much better, but it always comes back to this. Despair. The feeling of crying without a tear.