she’s not an easy person to live with . she’s been told her whole life — effy , what’s in your head doesn’t matter . you’re fine , you’re fine , you’re fine . she’s manic , and rash – she does things sometimes on impulse , and god … she’s so unbelievably - uncontrollably sad some days . this time — an argument is sprouted from another one of those rash decisions . she hasn’t taken her medication in days , she’s run out — and the idea of going back to her therapist makes her want to crawl under the blankets for the rest of an eternity of misery . “because you are mad . ” she hates this , she hates this , it makes every nerve in her body hurt . every ounce of exasperated energy she has , drained . and it’s not his fault , and she knows that . okay ? it’s never their fault . it’s you , effy . you’re fucked up . he knows it , she knows it , and it’s never going to get better . “ i didn’t tell you because it doesn’t matter , i’m fine. ” she’s not , clearly . but with these high highs , and low lows ? how could she tell the difference ?
anger isn’t his usual disposition --- it never stifled his thinking under unbearable weights like it did his mother, no. typically, matty could rationalise and reflect prior to reacting. but this-- this causes a lurch in his gut, an uncomfortable twist triggers the creep of something vile and acrid up his throat; words that he’d rather not have her hear, about feeling betrayed and lied to. that wasn’t fair, no. she thought he was mad, but matty was simply disappointed -- in himself. ‘ i’m not mad, ok? but things aren’t fine either. ’ he aches to comfort her, to shake her into seeing this from the outside. but matty knows that’s not a fair expectation, he knows that he MUST be patient. ‘ you can talk to me --- you know that right? about anything. ’
