How am I not supposed to think about him when--that was thirteen years of my life, Karkat, that was my whole experience of--of what humanity was like at all.

[He teeters on the knife edge between being desperately upset and anger, real anger, coiled hot and tight in the center of his chest. A very dim and distant part of him feels bad for dumping this on Karkat and not making anything easy for him, ever, but he can't uncurl, he physically cannot give him any cues right now.]

My whole world either came through him or was him and I didn't...it sucked and I hated it.

[It feels like spitting poison, getting all that out. Taken momentarily off-guard by his own vehemence, he shuts his jaw, concentrates on Karkat's hand at his back. When he speaks again, his voice is lower again.]

How fucked up is that, when getting raised by weird whale monsters and shit sounds more appealing than living with my own literal damn parent.