earlier this evening
my father told me
"I had a dream about you the other night, Kid.
You walked into the house, in out of the cold
but you were only about this tall
[about a metre and a half high]
and you were emaciated
and covered in bleeding sores.
It was horrible."
I agree, that sounds like the worst thing a parent can dream about their child-
but then he said
"But it's all okay
you don't look like that at all in real life."
How strange is it that I hate myself for apparently looking "healthy"?
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