02/14/22:

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 Surf House Chicama, 7:53am EST/4:53am PST

    I leave today, and I woke up with a splitting headache. 3 ibuprofen should fix that. I hope.

    Aunt Patty is being so weird that Stephanie's wondering if the tarot cards she read before I left were actually warning me about Aunt Patty. A betrayal I should've seen coming. Stephanie said I was letting Aunt Patty dominate my schedule, and that it had been like that from the very beginning-- Mom's side and Dad's side fighting for control of our trips-- but I don't care enough to tell her to lay off. I only care enough to actually do it.

    Why the surprise, Patricia? Are you really so shocked that I'd hate your mother and mine?

    God, her side of the family is dense as fuck.

    Gotta finish packing.

    J

LATAM flight 2227, TRU →LIM

    I'm so tired, and all I want is some conditioner, I can't even lie. I hate having Dad's face and now Mom's hair? Wildly curly when left unchecked?? Ugh. Christ. At least if this was intentional, but this is just seawater, plus that Castile soap. Fuck, dude.

    Okay, well. I loved Chicama-- got sand for my beach collection!!-- but after the blister putting me out of commission, and days without conditioner, I am dying. I suppose lamenting conditioner is very vain, and all, and there's worse things for longer lengths of time, to be without. Spoiled American, in her first world with her first world problems. How naive.

    I'm nervous about seeing Aunt Patty. I didn't really want to see her, because I'm angry. I've stayed angry. Out of all the adults in our lives, she's the one who should've seen through Mom the most. After all, Stephanie and I read each other like books. So Aunt Patty had to have guessed, and did nothing like Dad. I only asked her if she wanted to get together because Desiree and Uncle Dirk have been trying to get me to work on my empathy. And now she wants to overtake the rest of my trip.

    Just. Like. Mom.

    I don't like Dad either, but at least all his relatives seem to understand both my desire not to see them, and my reticence at talking about them.

    So. Yes. I prefer them. I like them. I don't like people who left me at Mom's mercy, any people, and only one of those people knows her like a sister. So the rest of the people had a semblance of an excuse. Aunt Patty makes excuses, and they're not even good ones.

    19 year old me wholeheartedly says to get fucked.

    Oops, we're landing.

    I swear, so much as a whiff of a defense on my mother's behalf, and I am OUT. I will ask them to stop, and if they don't, I will leave. That's my plan.

    And I'm slathering my head in a pound of conditioner.

    J

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