He hands me a half of the pastry I rip off a third of that And eat it Even though I don't want to I just don't want to make him mad
I hand back the rest of it
"Finish it" He pushes
"I can't, I'll feel sick" I explain
"Please Liana It's not that much" He tries
"But it'll make me throw up" I plead
"It won't. Eat it." He says
I can feel the rubber band pulling His anger stretching I'm afraid he'll snap
I eat the rest of it And feel sick the whole day
Didn't eat lunch or dinner And never again Will be willing to eat that pastry
Don't ask me Why I don't want to go out to eat with you You ruined it for yourself
My dad's favorite thing in the world is food, but I get stressed when I eat with him. He gets mad if I don't eat enough of it, eat too much of it, don't appreciate it enough, don't hate it if he hates it, and enjoys yelling at waiters, ect. When I get stressed I feel sick. When I feel sick I can't eat. He really likes to make me eat.
(This note was written by a giant strawberry that every seed was a house. Little strawberries lived in those houses, and their seeds has strawberries living in them. This goes on and on for eternity )