All I seem to be good for is getting into pointless fucking arguments, pissing people off, and surfing the fucking internet. Discuss. 

Oh, how I look forward to absolutely nothing at all enjoyable fucking happening. 

Before that, though, my son's just a biting, hissing, spitting, deaf, violent shambles I don't have any patience for and cannot understand. 

It's a good job he thinks Tam is the centre of the fucking universe and I am, at best, a surly, incompetent fucking prop, put on Earth to carry shit, pick up shit, wash up shit and shout at him.

I don't know how much more I can take.

They'll say I'm overreacting. I'm over-dramatic. They always do. They'll say I'm not present. I don't think they want me to be.

I can't say anything.

I can't do anything.

What did we do this for?