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?!
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
Why are you crying?
Me: Leave me alone!