So I put up the notes and I take off my clothes and I draw a bath and as the water’s going in the tub I think about all the baths my mother drew for me, all the times she sang me to sleep, all the care she invested in me. And for what? Keeping a fucking inevitable suicide on life support. And that’s why I’m in this mess, because she didn’t want a C-section, she forced a vaginal birth when the doctors told her she shouldn’t, I came out breech, not breathing, and one of my pupils is permanently bigger than the other, sign of brain damage, that’s why I am this way, I had nine months of a
...more
