My mother is sucking my soul out of me.
This whole hospital experience is more than I can take sometimes. Washing endless loads of fecal matter smeared clothing/dishtowels/face-cloths etc. has totally made me lash out at her...in the hospital, in public, like a real cunt. Which I don't deny being, but still, my mother, in the hospital, and i'm yelling at her.
(about the fact that she's drowning in debt that she can't forseeably pay down without major help and lives in a complete festering shitpile of a house where she is content to stack years worth of old plastic butter tubs and stolen jam packets marinating in dust, dirt, grime, goop, just smokeing cartonfulls of cigarettes that encase the whole house in a sticky brown film that I AM NOW IN CHARGE OF SHAPING UP OR WE'LL LOSE EVERYTHING)
I need time to breathe but all we've done is clean. We're finally almost there, although her fridge/cupboards have to be faced and there are still rotten meats and things that my grandmother bought in 1956 at the corner grocery wedged in the back of there.
I have to go coma now, it's all I can do.
