Just finished a phone conversation with my aunt. She's a suicidal hypochondriac, and is the type - if you ask her a question she'll write you a novel, but the novel will be all about her problems, then, she'll take those problems and shovel the guilt trip on top of you for whatever miniscule thing you have or have not done for her lately.
Future note: Guilt trip doesn't work on me, folks. I am the furthest specimen from perfect, but I enjoy hating who I am or am not. No one will ever take that away from me.
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