My weakness I feel I must finally show

Here's the many times established truth: I am a mess this time of year. That's it. That's all there is to it. Don't fuck with me, I'm grieving.

There are literally four people I trust enough to be around this time of year with my gaurd down. I counted. They're all in California and I don't like talking on the phone, so I'll be hiding from the world for the next few days because I can't actually manage to get my gaurd up. Say the wrong thing to me, look at me the wrong way, act distant in the slightest and I will actually burst into tears. And yes, I will know it's unreasonable. I will know it's me and not you and that just makes me feel worse.

And while I'm hiding in my room obsessively playing World of Warcraft, crying and forgetting to eat until I have to go back to work again, I'll be wishing that somebody would come cuddle me and bring me mashed potatoes (no matter how much I deny wanting human contact right now), because at least that is vaguely more realistic than wishing my father weren't dead.