Duplicity
Anyone who's been an avid follower of this journal (IE, no one who currently reads it) will no doubt remember the long-standing tradition of keeping my brother and I separated by double-standards: for example, he got to stay out until eleven whereas I was only allowed out until seven; he was given money whenever he asked for it whereas I had to clean, feed and water the animals whenever I asked for anything; a loan was taken out to afford his first year of college and I was told that I would need to make my own way.
Well, the duplicity has been down-played in recent years. It does still exist (he was given money until he started to steal it while I was never given more than was absolutely necessary, he skimps on paying back his college loan while I need to buy my own underwear, etc), but for the most part it's negligible given that I've ceased to exist.
However, due to recent events, I felt it necessary that I make it absolutely clear that the only way I'm letting the fat, miserable cock-sucker of a mother's-husband see me off is if my family gets me the ticket home. I'm not going to deal with him bitching and moaning while I board my plane with a ticket that he didn't have even the slightest bit of a hand in procuring, and considering that I haven't so much as been in the same room with him for more than a few minutes for the past month, I hardly see where anyone would think otherwise. Idiotically, I suggested that neither my brother nor I get the digital cameras that she was intending to get for us for 'Christmas.' Did I mention that it was idiotic?
"So you want your brother to give up Christmas?"
... Yes. I do. I want the twenty-one year old free-loader who constantly asks me for drug money, who has stolen everything that you own, mother, so as to fund his habit, who stole the pain meds that I was given after I got my wisdom teeth extracted, who still owes money on his college loan, who works as something as insulting as a busboy, to give up a Christmas present that neither can you afford nor does he deserve, so that you can buy me, the son who has the potential to make something of himself despite your best efforts, a ticket out of this fucking hell-hole that you've forced him to exist in for the past two years.
In fact, let's consider this my belated eighteenth birthday party. Because, if you'll remember, mother dearest, you threw him a surprise party with all of his friends and a massive, custom-made ice-cream cake, while you gave me a card and had me wear you down for a week before you got a cake at all- a week during which you and your husband were constantly screaming at each other, further damaging whatever remnants of sanity I'd managed to cling to.
SO YES. I THINK THAT HE CAN DO WITHOUT A REPLACEMENT TO MY DIGITAL CAMERA THAT HE BROKE SO AS TO ALLOW ME THE CHANCE TO LIVE MY LIFE, DON'T YOU?
Well, the duplicity has been down-played in recent years. It does still exist (he was given money until he started to steal it while I was never given more than was absolutely necessary, he skimps on paying back his college loan while I need to buy my own underwear, etc), but for the most part it's negligible given that I've ceased to exist.
However, due to recent events, I felt it necessary that I make it absolutely clear that the only way I'm letting the fat, miserable cock-sucker of a mother's-husband see me off is if my family gets me the ticket home. I'm not going to deal with him bitching and moaning while I board my plane with a ticket that he didn't have even the slightest bit of a hand in procuring, and considering that I haven't so much as been in the same room with him for more than a few minutes for the past month, I hardly see where anyone would think otherwise. Idiotically, I suggested that neither my brother nor I get the digital cameras that she was intending to get for us for 'Christmas.' Did I mention that it was idiotic?
"So you want your brother to give up Christmas?"
... Yes. I do. I want the twenty-one year old free-loader who constantly asks me for drug money, who has stolen everything that you own, mother, so as to fund his habit, who stole the pain meds that I was given after I got my wisdom teeth extracted, who still owes money on his college loan, who works as something as insulting as a busboy, to give up a Christmas present that neither can you afford nor does he deserve, so that you can buy me, the son who has the potential to make something of himself despite your best efforts, a ticket out of this fucking hell-hole that you've forced him to exist in for the past two years.
In fact, let's consider this my belated eighteenth birthday party. Because, if you'll remember, mother dearest, you threw him a surprise party with all of his friends and a massive, custom-made ice-cream cake, while you gave me a card and had me wear you down for a week before you got a cake at all- a week during which you and your husband were constantly screaming at each other, further damaging whatever remnants of sanity I'd managed to cling to.
SO YES. I THINK THAT HE CAN DO WITHOUT A REPLACEMENT TO MY DIGITAL CAMERA THAT HE BROKE SO AS TO ALLOW ME THE CHANCE TO LIVE MY LIFE, DON'T YOU?