To Crochet

I don't know what I'm trying to do. I have a nagging feeling it's not going to help. In my head there's some childish vision where everything turns for the better and the bad goes away.
In real life, I'm an idiot.
I know my Mum is trying to cheer me up but everything just turns out wrong. Instead I see her admiring my uneven attempt to crochet and can't help but wonder to myself, maybe this is how I should have been. Maybe some needles and some tricks in sewing would make this family a unit again.
All in all I feel worthless. And when Mum asks me to show Dad the crocheting that I was earlier pleased with I toss it away. I can't tell him what it's supposed to be, because I'm choking on air as I do. Mum says with her resignated voice that if I can't manage work, I should tell her, and she'll take the shift, she's only been here since 7AM this morning... My affection for her since before blows away. I say she's being silly. If I can't manage work, I can't manage anything. Sure as hell won't make me feel better to just sit around at home staring at a TV screen, doing nothing.
I can't think a few days ahead in time, I can't... imagine. There's no... future anymore the way I visioned it. Guess we should never imagine the future.
But either way I was pretty happy with my present.
I'm going over to see you tomorrow, basically because I've made you. My guess is you don't want me to come. My guess is you've already said all that you needed to say.
But I don't think I've heard all I needed to hear.
And I think maybe I just have a hard time letting go.
So, I don't know what I'm trying to do here. I don't think anything will make amends. I can't fix you. I can't, apparently, help you with whatever you need. I don't think I will come by you tomorrow and you'll have miraculously changed your mind.
I don't know what I'm expecting.
All I know is I can't be like this. Not anymore.