The truth is that I want to kick and scream and yell and break things. I thought I wasn't mad. Actually, I'm furious.
Everyone thinks I'm handling it so well, being so positive. I thought I was just sad, and I am so sad for my dad. You don't do something this desperate just for attention. He is truly tortured.
But he's shattering all of us. And I'm exhausted. Enraged at seeing my mother and my brother so crushed. Livid that we're going through this again. Mad doesn't begin to describe it.