i love it when i can count on my hand how many times my dad and brother have cooked this year, yet me not wanting to cook on the night of my exam raises questions of ‘why can’t you’
ive become so resentful towards them that i hope they end up alone and are forced to cook for themselves for once. can’t wait to move out; hope my dad’s girlfriend dumps him. she even makes his breakfast and lunches, I want to barf over the 50s vibes.
