fuck.

I've spent all day working on a friend's birthday present. All day.

Dad just watched me painting it.

Dad just picked the whole thing up, oblivious, to get something from underneath it.

It is ruined.

and then he blames me for
'leaving it there',
where he'd just seen me painting it
on the kitchen table.

And now it's ruined.

All the end-of-school emotions I've had safely tucked away heard on the grapevine that the present was ruined, and they all went:

BOOM


I need a hug.