bile rises in throat

It's hard not to be angry about things that are not far enough in the past not to be angry about. Now I don't have the time to change my clothes, or maybe I'm just disinterested in fashion or hygiene. I haven't written about my trip to China because the defining moment of it involves me parting my mother's labia while my cousin, who is a medical student, inserts a catheter to drain out 1500cc of blocked urine to save my mom from kidney failure. Other defining moments include a fun and frantic tour of emergency wards in Nanjing and Songjiang, and seeing the rancid tip of my uncle's nose, which is rotting because he doesn't make enough money to keep the heat on all night and keeps the windows open to dry his clothes in the air and sleeps with a hot water bag but still can't keep his face warm. Friends text asking if I'm mad at them because I haven't called in so long. Friends' fathers die. I'm tired all the time but there aren't enough hours in the day to sleep. I'm snapping at people and getting absurdly sensitive to old friends' no-nonsense communicative styles. And fuck you, Kathryn, you don't know me at all; but I know all about Tom. Peace on Earth.