i fucking hate August
every day it feels like I'm sleepwalking through life: I know what I am doing but there's a filter that makes my senses numb while I'm doing it. and this month has a special way of pushing everything over the edge.
it's been twenty four years since my dad died this month, and two years since my grandma joined him, and now it seems like this month is for mourning. if I ever end up killing myself I would make it in August too, save everyone a trip.
every year I wonder what would my dad think of my life, his grand kids, and his legacy. would he be the one able to help me wake up and find my way? sometimes I really wish I had supportive parents that help with the hard things, and don't cosplay as supportive because they like the idea of telling other people about my achievements as a symbol of their own success.
and every year like clockwork, I have to bottle everything up inside, the only person that is not allowed to crash out or quit. having to pay penitence for the decisions made by others eons ago. no second chances.