It happened again. A complete and total meltdown in public. Not even two weeks after the first occurrence.
Short of stuffing cotton in my nose; I don't know how to stop panicking at the first smell of a certain green bottle with a little gold horse on the front.
I tell myself it's not him. I tell myself that I'm safe. I tell myself to take deep breaths. I touch something to remind my senses where I am.
Screaming. Yelling. Tears. Sobs. Strange and worried looks.
It's fucking embarrassing to be this broken. Of course it's all his fault. But he is not the one coming unglued in all the broken places. So that must mean that it's my fault that I can't get just over it all.
This is a really good reason why you shouldn't fuck your daughter.
“Shall I Crucify Your King?” #UNITE Linky
22 hours ago