u/frustrated_crab

I have a ton of space that I’d like to fill with chili pequin but there are too many tree roots for me to plant transplants. I already have a lot of mature plants, can I just collect the seeds and toss them where I want them? Is it that easy? I’ve never planted anything via seed, only transplants.

I have a tank that’s been cycling for a 6 weeks as of this weekend and I’m noticing more and more hydra pop up on the glass, I wanted to do shrimp first then fish but I’d prefer to deal with the hydra first if I can

Her face is bright red and blistered from the sun and I feel bad for her. She says “usually when I come through this shopping center I’m a cat. Maybe I’ll come by a visit you” and I just smile and nod while I hand her her bottle of water, which she then proceeds to pour out onto pavement. I don’t think there’s anything I can do for her, but I hope she likes being a cat

I’ve seen a few and they’re so sweet. Seeing a grown man cry over seeing his daughter makes me weep, it’s so heartwarming and I adore seeing that kind of love.

What’s hurting me today is knowing that my dad (dead for a while now) would have been so happy to see me. He may have cried, he would have embraced me and hugged me right. He was such a silly, fun and sweet man… but he was also a monstrous, hateful adult child.
In the weeks following his 6’4” self pinning me in the corner of the hallway and screaming in my face while I, a teenage girl, sobbed, he would buy me my favorite snacks or maybe take me to see a movie. He would ask me if I wanted to watch SpongeBob with him. Typical abuse cycle, but of course I didn’t know that at the time. And after his dead my mom would say “I don’t want you to remember the ugly side of him, I want you to remember when he would play video games with you”.
But I couldn’t get the image of his face twisted with rage, breaking things, slamming his fists on my bedroom door, standing outside it while I cried and screaming “Whaaa, daddy why are you so mean to me! Daddy whaaaa, don’t yell at me!” all because I didn’t rinse a plate well enough when I put it in the sink.
He would tell me that I was useless and stupid, that I was going to be homeless and he would find where I was begging so he could have the pleasure of walking past me with his nose in the air and ignore me while I begged for his help.

I told my mom that I have never cried over his death, but I did cry over his life. She was so angry with me. Defending this complicated, monster of a man even a decade after his death. Even after everything he did to her.

“You told me you could change, you begged me to stay and cried when I left you and yet here we are, you’re still disgusting”. And she’s still defending him.
I couldn’t handle her guilt tripping and viscerally describing her own childhood abuse to me. I had to leave her to sit alone with this legacy of misery. I couldn’t keep exposing myself to it.

And I watch these videos of fathers embracing their daughters and it makes me smile, and I imagine a world where my dad could have been a happy man, and where my memory of him wasn’t so complicated and bitter.

I miss my mom. But I can’t be apart of it.