Getting it Out or Something It is the 5th of February, 2024. I was given homework by my therapist to write about my dad. I don’t know where to start...
Dear Cancerous Backseat Driver, You are NOT steering my automobile. You don't even know, you don't even care where we're going so you can't advise me...
When I saw you again, I swore I propelled myself so hard, I'd pass right through you. But your arms were open to catch me, so instead I lodged myself...