Rant. Ya know what to do.

Grandma says she’s pulling me out of my therapy.

She says I’m talking too much now. She doesn’t like that I’m telling him all the SHIT that’s going on in this house.

Grandma, I’m making a fucking recovery. This is the best I’ve been in years. Before, I was fucking suicidal. I was closed off and didn’t open to anyone. Hell, I was potentially able to get some anti-depressants for the first time to help with my panic attacks and depression spurts.

BUT NO. You don’t want people to think I’m mental. You want to keep your damn pride and don’t want people to know your family is broken and hurt. You want to just hide the fact that I’m an emotional wreck.

AND IF YOU HAD JUST TAKEN US TO A DOCTORS TO GET THESE PARASITES TREATED, HE WOULDN’T HAVE CALLED DEFAX.

Don’t bitch at me because you’re too damn sorry to take care of YOUR FUCKING FAMILY.

Once I’m out of here, I’m gone. I’ll move somewhere far away and WON’T DO SHIT TO HELP YOU.

SEE HOW THAT FEELS.