I am still here. I am still trying. One last fucking time to do the right thing by you. I don’t expect you to show. But I’ll extend the olive branch. That’s who the fuck I am. But I expect nothing.
I haven’t invited you and him for Christmas dinner yet because this year I don’t care, even though it’s likely I will be down there. I’m happy playing the villain. I don’t care anymore.
I don’t know my exact plans because there are too many reasons not to care. I will still do what I plan to do but the when is all kinds of misery business right now. Not sure I want to bother to have that choice.
This time of year just brings depression and anger and nothing to look forward to. I’m not even terribly sure why I put forward the effort some years.
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