There are mornings with children that are not unlike punching yourself in the eye over and over.
Then there is this morning, which was a bit like if I’d dipped my fist in a bucket of acid piranhas covered in nails, and rather than just punching myself in the eye I had ground said fist backwards into my lower intestine.
Three different people have since offered me chocolate, which means it’s likely I’m literally crying without realising. And I ate that chocolate – for breakfast – but it didn’t help. In fact, it made it worse. Now I’m all hopped up on caffeine but still totally miserable which is so much worse and just means I’m POWER CRYING instead of ACCIDENTAL CRYING.
Seriously man, some days, fuck adulthood. Pass the bong.