today was a lot, bordering on too much, most of it beaurocratic which is nightmarish to me and he utterly goes limp like a possum dead with eyes open. ya can't sprinkle a little play doh on top and have it be anything but a stressor when the base nerve is shot every damn day. ya just can't. 

everybody wants more from him. 

I was there. they just don't get it. and it's not like the dynomite stops going off, either. maybe a blow down would be a better metaphor for blowing up a life, it's sort of cascading one thing on top of another you can't stop once started. I mean, he's not gonna have to commit bankruptsy (based on what I currently understand), and my god his HR lady is fucking ON IT now. he's keeping that job even if it's a personal leave at her discretion and I believe her, she said something 🤏 to nobody is gonna fuck w me over this kid. 

so tomorrow starts with another round of doctoring at asscrack a.m., post-involuntary recheck w Dr Note who started this so he is the magic sign off solution to All Forms, with umpteen insurance and caseworker and hr ladies 👀👀👀 breathing down his neck and me in the waiting room (armcrossy). he better his do fucking job 🖤

and once that is done, fmla is as done as it's getting.

next chore: move pc and burn the apt bridge. there is stuff there he might miss later, but nooses are there, and I know him, they'd be elegent and cutting and easy to keep as some token. no. it's not worth it. cut bait. 

he lapses into a self-dissapeared monosyllabism when stressed by this stuff. too close an inner rocking.