It’s adorable how I thought I could exist in my family and get away with saving some cash by getting LESS therapy. But at least they gave me some money for Christmas, so they’re inadvertently footing the bill.
Are you serious? We’re adults. Someone in the family just DIED — they are now an EX-parrot. Maybe get some perspective? When YOU die, are you gonna be like, “Heh… Yeah, I was a complete DICK to my niece in 2016, remember? Deleted her from Facebook for some BULLshit — I showed HER. LIFE? HA! NAILED IT. Go ‘head, Jesus, take the wheel!”
I’m pretty close to telling everyone to go fuck themselves. I’ve already said, “I want nothing to do with this.” Do you know how much you have to fuck up before *I* won’t talk to you? You have to, like… kill a Muppet.
Time to invoke The Asshole Inference: “I don’t know. I don’t wanna know. I’m out.” *hand gesture*
(Actually, I think writing this and seeing Token was probably all the therapy I needed. And also bearing in mind that running away to CA and never coming back is always an option.)