"On Thursday, April the 5th, 1750, I went to see a most deplorable object of a child, born the night before of one Mary Evans in 'Chas'town. It was surprising to all who beheld it, and I scarcely know how to describe it. The skin was dry and hard and seemed to be cracked in many places, somewhat resembling the scales of a fish. The mouth was large and round and open. It had no external nose, but two holes where the nose should have been. The eyes appeared to be lumps of coagulated blood, turned out, about the bigness of a plum, ghastly to behold. It had no external ears, but holes where the ears should be. The hands and feet appeared to be swollen, were cramped up and felt quite hard. The back part of the head was much open. It made a strange kind of noise, very low, which I cannot describe. It lived about forty-eight hours and was alive when I saw it."
My father’s sister won’t answer questions about my family because I’m “not ready”. What the fuck?
We don’t fucking know who each other are, and it’s MY fucking family just as much as it is yours. Why the fuck is there so much fucking mystery I can’t even fucking know this shit? I would understand if I was fucking 8 still, but I’m a goddamn almost 20 year old fucking man, tell me this shit.
You don’t feel like you have a family either, it’s just been you and your son for 6 years? How about keeping family secrets of who the fuck we are, from.. uhm.. I dunno, your fucking family? You tell me this shit.