It's like anytime something little happens it all goes back to the big things and I think about how no one in my family even bothered to download skype to talk to me so we would go months without talking because I couldn't afford to buy internet. I think about how my dad and my brother threatened to give my cat to the humane society and now he's living with my mom's ex-boyfriend because they couldn't care enough about my feelings to keep him. And I think about my big dog who got so excited after walks that he would claw at my door just to see me and it's like, if only the couch had fit through the goddamn door I wouldn't be thinking of all these things, but it didn't. I go to Austria and everything leaves and no one bothers to tell me until later and then it's always my brother who is the least tactful human being on the planet. You know how when you were fifteen and you swore to god your parents couldn't possibly love you, because they were treating you so goddamn shitty and then you got older and realized how fucking ridiculous that was and that they obviously cared about you? I feel like I am regressing, like none of these things are circumstance, but are purposeful acts to make me miserable. I can't even talk to people anymore. I can't even explain how goddamn hard it was to spend most of the last nine months alone and how painful boredom is when all you can think is that your house is leaving.