Nobody puts baillee in the corner

Spoiler: this blog post doesn’t have a happy ending. There is no moment of clarity. There is no “but it’s okay.” Because I’m not. I’m not okay. 

Everyone has been asking me that question, and I don’t know how to answer. I’m angry because my dad is dying, and there isn’t a goddamn thing I can do about it. I’m sad because my mother is grieving with every fiber of her being. I’m angry I don’t make enough money to support her. I’m sad because my best doesn’t feel good enough. 

I still harbor guilt for not being there when my grandpa died and missing it by one hour, and I feel guilty about going back to Austin tomorrow for all the same reasons. I feel helpless and small. I feel, but I’m still completely numb. 

Like I said earlier, I wish there was a happy ending here. I wish there was an epilogue where everything was fine. I wish there was a closing line about how all of this was a fever dream. I wish there was some fucking Shyamalanian twist. But there’s not.

Right now, there is only pain and darkness and a shitty cliffhanger the audience already has the ultimate ending to because it’s not a matter of if but when. Right now, there is nothing but sorrow and agony. Right now, there’s nothing. And I’m sorry, but I can write it any differently