3pm, the kitchen of a suburban home. I am in dressing gown making coffee and taking a stack of vitamin supplements with reheated pizza. Dad is standing there wearing a fleece and berating me about my low standard of physical fitness. The track of conversation suddenly changes:

Dad: You need to get a job

Me: Who would employ me?!

Dad: ?

Me: I’m disassociated half the time, can’t remember shit, have violent screaming meltdowns when things go wrong, and frequently am driven to run away by panic. Also I’d turn up drunk.

Dad: Well you need to work harder.

Ten minutes later

Dad: sternly
Why are you crying?

Me: Leave me alone!


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