Shit I Can't Control #112
I cannot control my mother's husband. Shit. I can't even say anything to him when he's being an unrelenting bully because I need a roof over my head.
A case in point:
Not ten minutes ago,I was in the loo. As soon as I got out of the loo I heard Grant, my nephew, holler out for his mother. I knew he would want a chocolate milk so I went into the kitchen to make him one just as I heard that asshole get up out of bed, huffing and gruffing all the way up the stairs. I made his cup and go wait for him to get done with Grant.
He asks me what I'm waiting for. I respond that I'm waiting for him to get done. He says that he's not so fat that we both can't walk up and down the steps. He makes me uncomfortable in ways that I don't like to talk about so no, I don't want to be on the same set of stairs at him.
But that's not enough for him. No, he has to tell me that Grant had been yelling out for a while now. Bitch, you know that's a goddamn lie.
I cannot control him. I deeply resent the implication that I can. He bullies me, he attacks me, and he belittles me. I put up with it, ranting on the internet instead, because I need a roof over my head and if I ever did say anything, I would explode. And then I would not have any place to live. It's the way of it.
A case in point:
Not ten minutes ago,I was in the loo. As soon as I got out of the loo I heard Grant, my nephew, holler out for his mother. I knew he would want a chocolate milk so I went into the kitchen to make him one just as I heard that asshole get up out of bed, huffing and gruffing all the way up the stairs. I made his cup and go wait for him to get done with Grant.
He asks me what I'm waiting for. I respond that I'm waiting for him to get done. He says that he's not so fat that we both can't walk up and down the steps. He makes me uncomfortable in ways that I don't like to talk about so no, I don't want to be on the same set of stairs at him.
But that's not enough for him. No, he has to tell me that Grant had been yelling out for a while now. Bitch, you know that's a goddamn lie.
I cannot control him. I deeply resent the implication that I can. He bullies me, he attacks me, and he belittles me. I put up with it, ranting on the internet instead, because I need a roof over my head and if I ever did say anything, I would explode. And then I would not have any place to live. It's the way of it.