(no subject)
I know I need to say something, but I'm sitting here...and I just don't know what to say.
Yesterday hit me hard. No...it began when my father got back from the hospital. Yesterday just added to it. The day was all around dreary to start with. Went to pay the bill collectors their blood money. Didn't see any friendly faces in town, which is part of what makes this errand run every 1st bearable. And then I see an old friend of mine from several years back at the local supermarket. One of the few people whose name I still remember. She even helped me look presentable back for that fancy dinner at the YACA Convention. I still remember standing there with everyone looking at me, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I ever had in years...and loved all at the same time. But...she didn't even recognize me.
That one incident tainted the rest of the day. Then I come home, feeling very sad but still okay, and then the crap with my father started. He hasn't contacted Wall-Mart in two weeks now. We kidnapped his ass and sent him to the hospital roughly a week ago over congestive heart failure. They kept him and straightened out his health, which he is fastly fucking up again. He is feeling well enough to get on the computer and dig around for smut, or so my mother says. Still no call to Wall-Mart about his job, or lack thereof.
It doesn't take a genius to see that he wants to be fired. I guess he expects either mom or I to go out and get a job and start supporting him.
*sighs morbidly*
I just don't know what I'm doing anymore. My mind and heart are being fucked left and right and it's causing me to change. Into what I don't know. I'm finding I care less and less about maintaining a certain image. The only reason I bothered was an attempt to save my sanity. Now it's just too much of a burden to handle along with everything else going on in the war zone.
Still...I'm fighting to maintain the peace. It is more for my sanity than theirs. I had a revelation when we came back with my father and the crap started the very second he stepped food into the vehicle. He had told me in the hospital that he hadn't had a cigarette since he went in and that he wanted to keep it that way. He repeated the same when he got in and she offered him one. Later down the road she's drilling into him like a mother hen and he lights one up. However, that is not the point.
You see, I hate cigarettes. I always have. I've had to endure the crap for years, more so as a child when apparently I had no right to complain about the smell or the fact it would get so bad sometimes I'd cough. So, I learned to shut up and endure.
And that's when it hits me...these two have been killing each other for years. They do things to each other out of pure fucking defiance, regardless of who else suffers in the process. The only time I am ever noticed in these situations is when they're looking for support or someone to side with them. So in effect while they are attempting to kill themselves and each other out of spite, they are killing me. I'm caught in the crossfire.
Yet I stay. Even now...even as past failures, lost dreams, and broken promises are losing their hold over my will. I still remain here, against every screaming fiber in my being wanting me to get out of here while I still can.
Still...I can't help but be bitter. Not at my situation but at the rude awakening I've gotten to it. I had been made to believe such is normal, such is life, that I should be thankful for this. Others would enforce this, constantly berrating me for not performing to standard. Everyone wished to be me, wished to have what I did, to have my skills and my life. From riches to rags this is the one consistent thing that never changed. By the time someone finally come along who did understand the situation I was in, it was too late, for I was already defending the same people who fed me those lies.
There is so little left in me now to fight...so precious little. I can't fight the truth, and the lies are never ending. I am unable to see the love others have for me, unable to appreciate the things that are freely given, unable to believe that anything I didn't have to pry out of cold dead fingers has worth. I am even unable to trust. As such, I am unable to exist as who I really am.
I don't know how much longer it will be until I finally reach the end of my rope. All I know is that when I do, all hell's going to break loose.
Yesterday hit me hard. No...it began when my father got back from the hospital. Yesterday just added to it. The day was all around dreary to start with. Went to pay the bill collectors their blood money. Didn't see any friendly faces in town, which is part of what makes this errand run every 1st bearable. And then I see an old friend of mine from several years back at the local supermarket. One of the few people whose name I still remember. She even helped me look presentable back for that fancy dinner at the YACA Convention. I still remember standing there with everyone looking at me, feeling more exposed and vulnerable than I ever had in years...and loved all at the same time. But...she didn't even recognize me.
That one incident tainted the rest of the day. Then I come home, feeling very sad but still okay, and then the crap with my father started. He hasn't contacted Wall-Mart in two weeks now. We kidnapped his ass and sent him to the hospital roughly a week ago over congestive heart failure. They kept him and straightened out his health, which he is fastly fucking up again. He is feeling well enough to get on the computer and dig around for smut, or so my mother says. Still no call to Wall-Mart about his job, or lack thereof.
It doesn't take a genius to see that he wants to be fired. I guess he expects either mom or I to go out and get a job and start supporting him.
*sighs morbidly*
I just don't know what I'm doing anymore. My mind and heart are being fucked left and right and it's causing me to change. Into what I don't know. I'm finding I care less and less about maintaining a certain image. The only reason I bothered was an attempt to save my sanity. Now it's just too much of a burden to handle along with everything else going on in the war zone.
Still...I'm fighting to maintain the peace. It is more for my sanity than theirs. I had a revelation when we came back with my father and the crap started the very second he stepped food into the vehicle. He had told me in the hospital that he hadn't had a cigarette since he went in and that he wanted to keep it that way. He repeated the same when he got in and she offered him one. Later down the road she's drilling into him like a mother hen and he lights one up. However, that is not the point.
You see, I hate cigarettes. I always have. I've had to endure the crap for years, more so as a child when apparently I had no right to complain about the smell or the fact it would get so bad sometimes I'd cough. So, I learned to shut up and endure.
And that's when it hits me...these two have been killing each other for years. They do things to each other out of pure fucking defiance, regardless of who else suffers in the process. The only time I am ever noticed in these situations is when they're looking for support or someone to side with them. So in effect while they are attempting to kill themselves and each other out of spite, they are killing me. I'm caught in the crossfire.
Yet I stay. Even now...even as past failures, lost dreams, and broken promises are losing their hold over my will. I still remain here, against every screaming fiber in my being wanting me to get out of here while I still can.
Still...I can't help but be bitter. Not at my situation but at the rude awakening I've gotten to it. I had been made to believe such is normal, such is life, that I should be thankful for this. Others would enforce this, constantly berrating me for not performing to standard. Everyone wished to be me, wished to have what I did, to have my skills and my life. From riches to rags this is the one consistent thing that never changed. By the time someone finally come along who did understand the situation I was in, it was too late, for I was already defending the same people who fed me those lies.
There is so little left in me now to fight...so precious little. I can't fight the truth, and the lies are never ending. I am unable to see the love others have for me, unable to appreciate the things that are freely given, unable to believe that anything I didn't have to pry out of cold dead fingers has worth. I am even unable to trust. As such, I am unable to exist as who I really am.
I don't know how much longer it will be until I finally reach the end of my rope. All I know is that when I do, all hell's going to break loose.