it hasn't stopped raining in days. i can’t stop crying and it feels like everyone around me is dying. at 5 am on the morning of my 21st birthday i got in the back of my mom’s car to drive to new york, and brought my expired, hole-punched passport with me and remembered why i should never try to celebrate myself in any way out of the ordinary. my dad screamed and it brought me back to the years he’d do the same every day, speeding drunk down a road towards nothing. he spun the car around and we drove back for my new passport, and i let grief fall onto my sweater like nothing belongs on me but tears, tearing apart my old passport page for page. my eyes were so puffy the rest of the day that i could barely keep them open, not to eat lunch, not to take pictures of a world i usually love, not to watch the broadway musical of my favourite childhood disney movie. i cried the whole weekend beside my parents and my two best friends, wondering how it could be possible that i don't know how to get along with anyone, not even the people i love the most. i deserve to stay alone and have for a long time now, and i think i'm finally understanding what this all means. that hope keeps you alive, but is never fulfilled. happiness must be a myth i'm told to live for, not something i'll ever fully understand. i sobbed for hours on the weekend of my 21st birthday and i don't suppose it's going to ever be better than this.