End, again.

Leaving NYC tomorrow, unfortunately.

Waiting around with my sister while she cleans her apartment (I keep trying to help but it doesn't seem that there's much I can do) for the person who's coming over later to maybe live with her for the next year. We'll see.

I had a great time, but I'm feeling pretty melancholy today. Maybe it's PMS, more likely it's a combination of that and Father's Day really just dredging up a ton of horrible emotions. I don't know what's wrong with me. I feel like I'm an open book about most things. I'm not really ashamed of anything, or prudish, or any of that. But when something actually hurts me or bothers me in a way that is more than superficial, I can't talk about it. It stays corked up on the inside and even if I desperately want to say something the words catch in my throat and die.

And so instead of doing something fun right now, I'm in my sister's apartment, alone, thinking about my newly broken family and trying to fight back tears. It isn't working. For some reason, having someone see me cry is absolutely mortifying.