The problem with my parents is their sad attempt at "caring."
Instead of calling me directly, they decide to send my sister to "talk some sense into me." As if she's qualified to tell *anyone* to get their life together. How dare anyone try to tell me to get my life together. I have a fucking Ivy League degree, I'm employed in a shit market, and I'm a fucking strong woman who's overcome a shitload of obstacles. All they know how to do is make me regret being born.
I really don't want to hate them, but I'm getting close.
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