Growing up in an abusive household is a fucking trip dude. If you’ve never had someone angrily wash a dish at you, or fold a sock in your direction, then how are you gonna understand why I get nervous when you quietly do the laundry, or why I ask “are you mad at me?” when you set the bag of groceries down too hard? It’s a totally different way of living and it impacts you long after you’ve left the situation.

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