The Holidays?: An Anagram for Shitdays.
I fucking give up. I have typed the same thing three fucking times because it keeps deleting itself after I'm a fucking two sentences from finishing and it's not fucking worth it. I am furious and angry and upset and so goddamned frustrated and tired. So fucking tired.
Bravo, Dad. You're right. I couldn't give a shit if it's Grandpa's last Thanksgiving and I am just a heartless person for not being able to get out of my shifts in our busiest week of the year when you tell me at the last fucking minute that you want me to drop everything at the pin of a hat and go to Florida with you. That's exactly it. You've caught me- heartless me.
But you know what's fucking heartless? Bitching out your youngest daughter over the phone from another state while she sits in the ER I fucking drove her to when her lungs stopped working because you wrote off her cough and now it's full-fledged bronchitis in her severely asthmatic body.
You know what's heartless? Ignoring your daughter for months when she tells you that she wants to go with you to her nephew's baptism, blowing her off and blowing her off, and exclaiming, "Oh, NOW you want to go," when she finally confronts you about it the week before when she finds out you bought tickets and weren't going to tell her, when she is sitting there crying her head off because she wouldn't say a goddamn thing if it wasn't the last goddamn chance she's going to have to see her uncle before he dies and you fucking promised her. You fucking promised me and I didn't want it to be like Tia Penny. I don't want him to die and I won't see him first. He can't be like Tia Penny. My heart can't take that.
So I'm heartless. But what does that make you?
Bravo, Dad. You're right. I couldn't give a shit if it's Grandpa's last Thanksgiving and I am just a heartless person for not being able to get out of my shifts in our busiest week of the year when you tell me at the last fucking minute that you want me to drop everything at the pin of a hat and go to Florida with you. That's exactly it. You've caught me- heartless me.
But you know what's fucking heartless? Bitching out your youngest daughter over the phone from another state while she sits in the ER I fucking drove her to when her lungs stopped working because you wrote off her cough and now it's full-fledged bronchitis in her severely asthmatic body.
You know what's heartless? Ignoring your daughter for months when she tells you that she wants to go with you to her nephew's baptism, blowing her off and blowing her off, and exclaiming, "Oh, NOW you want to go," when she finally confronts you about it the week before when she finds out you bought tickets and weren't going to tell her, when she is sitting there crying her head off because she wouldn't say a goddamn thing if it wasn't the last goddamn chance she's going to have to see her uncle before he dies and you fucking promised her. You fucking promised me and I didn't want it to be like Tia Penny. I don't want him to die and I won't see him first. He can't be like Tia Penny. My heart can't take that.
So I'm heartless. But what does that make you?