I keep sitting down with it and trying to respond but every time that I do I break into twenty or thirty jagged accusatory shards and rage and sadness wash over me. The last time I did, it ruined my entire day, and I don’t want to give him that right.

My father wrote to me. After almost a decade since the night that we last saw one another, he called my mother and told her he’d like to be in contact with me. His first letter (email, rather) wasn’t very great. It’s all statements, there are no questions–it doesn’t feel like there’s any consideration of me or what I might want or what I might be feeling.

Still, it’s something. For the last few years the unknowable, wondering what happened to our shared family, has been in my shoe like a sharp pebble when I try to walk or dance or…do anything, at all.

I don’t know where to start. It’s not a good time for family reunions. I have almost 10K in medical bills from the accident, and I keep washing under this situational depression and I feel on the verge of fucking everything (everything) up at all times–I don’t feel like I have much to contribute to my relationships right now other than boner jokes and homemade jam. I can’t even ride my fucking bike to make myself feel better.

I should have labelled this shit trigger warning for self-pity.


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