Y’all, when I look back on my life with my family, I feel like it’s marked by a lot of fucked up stupidity and misery punctuated by brief inexplicable bouts of happiness that kind of grow like tiny hearty wildflowers until someone notices them and yanks them out by the roots.
If times are tough, my family is pretty good about coming through for you.
But, folks, I’m tired of tough times. I don’t want tough times. I don’t want there to have to be some kind of disaster for them to come through for me.
I want to be happy with them. I want them to come through for me when the situation is good. I don’t want them to relieve my burdens. I want them to share my joy.
And the fact that they can’t do this for me, this thing that feels good and is easy and takes no effort and means so much, it just makes me despair.