I'm done. I'm f***ing done.

So I’m at my in-laws house this weekend. On Sunday. And you know there’s food, there’s family, there’s a child who, I am told, is mine. Two of them if I recall correctly. And I’m sitting there in the corner like an asshole swiping furiously on my phone, sweating, because at 2am the night before I had a thought which I should not have had, which is: what…