I think that’s what they mean when they say “she lost her shit.”

I can’t see myself ever getting out of bed again.

I love Emma so much.

Saturday, July 14 #Whatever

I didn’t go to the thrift shop today, because I’m

a)  still too angry with Mum and

b)  too embarrassed to face Kate and

c) unable to deal with Emma.

I’m not even mad about Mum not coming home for my birthday even though she promised that she would, but I’m mad because I’m mad.

Because I should have expected it, because this is what always happens.

I canceled my party via Instagram, and literally five minutes later:

Polly: Are you okay?

Me: Yes, fine.

Polly: Party canceled. Why?

Me: Mum’s staying behind for a patient, so she won’t be home until next week.

Polly: That SUCKS.

Me: She sucks.

Polly: Why is she staying?

Me: Someone’s having a baby, and apparently women haven’t been able to give birth successfully without her since always, and so Mum needs to be there. Naturally.

Polly: But I’ve got a present for you. Can I at least come over tomorrow?

Me: I’m not in the mood for anyone. Sorry.

Polly: I respect that. But I’ll call you.

Me: Okay.

Polly: Don’t be sad. Love you.

Me:…

Then I watched Love Island.

Luckily the show is so dumb that my brain literally switched off to protect itself from further deterioration, and I fell asleep.

I only woke up when Kate got back from work, and I swear my whole body felt broken.

Kate (looking down at me lying on the sofa): Do you want to talk about last night?

Me (new tears rolling out of my eyes): I’m so sorry, Kate.

Kate: Thank you.

Me: It won’t ever happen again.

Kate (nodding):…

Me:…

Kate (putting her hand on my forehead like she’s checking if I have a temperature): Have you had food today? Water?

Me: No. And yes.

Kate (sitting down, putting my feet on her lap): I know you find emotions hard, Phoebe.

Me:…

Kate: But they make us human.

Me: I hate that.

Kate: I know. But what happened last night is not acceptable.

Me: I know.

Kate: I know you know, and that’s why we don’t have to talk about it again.

Me: Thank you.

Kate: Emma tells me you canceled your party.

Me: So?

Kate: So, when were you planning on telling Alex? He’s not on Instagram.

Me: Shit.

Kate: Yes, shit. But don’t worry, I spoke to his dad.

Me: I’m sorry.

Kate: You’re welcome to change your mind, you know. We can go to Morrison’s right now.

Me (shaking my head):…

Kate: Okay. But we are going to go out for lunch.

Me: I’m honestly not in the mood.

Kate: I wasn’t asking you, pet, I was telling you. I feel like telling the story of how your clever little head breached your mother’s vagina and you plopped out into my hands sixteen years ago.

Me: I guess I owe you that.

Kate: You do, pet.