i don't know anymore.
really.
i don't get it.
i am at a loss for words or thoughts.
i am officially flailing against the ocean.
actually, i think i am drowning.
and i hate it.
i fucking hate it.
people say this is a test of faith.
and i want to scream and say I'VE HAD ENOUGH TESTS!
i'm breaking. i'm bending. i'm falling apart.
i want to turn it around, but i don't know how.
it's been two months.
i can't remember the last time i had a real good nights sleep.
i can't remember the last time i was happy.
i replay that scene on a daily basis and depending on how the day went, sometimes i just see his body on the floor.
dead and lifeless.
and sometimes i feel all the feelings i felt at the time i found him there.
my heart racing and breaking at the same time.
knowing what i was going to find.
i can see my hand on the doorknob. i can hear his tv.
i can feel my fear, knowing what i was going to find.
i can hear my mom on the phone, telling me to just open the door.
i can smell that hallway.
my last connection to my dad, fading out in the same way.
why did it have to be me?
why did i have to find him there?
because i was the closest? because i was working for him? because that's just the way things go?
i don't know.
and i keep trying to let it fade.
you must press on, right?
and now he's dead, and i there went my uncle and my job.
and how many jobs do i have to interview for?
how many resumes do i have to post? even when i have connections, they're not good enough.
it starts to wear you down.
i know i'm good enough, i don't know why anyone else can't see it.
and then.
THEN.
we have to have my sister make her yearly reappearance as me.
i can't believe i haven't posted anything since the last time this happened.
this time she gets arrested for an OUI and fails the breathalizer and tells them she's me.
thanks.
appreciate it, you fucking bitch.
and so my license gets suspended.
2 weeks later and several faxes to the RMV later and it's still suspended. for something i didn't even do.
and the police assure me they're trying to reverse it, but really.
why do i have to call them everyday? why does she get to just go on doing whatever the fuck she wants and i get punished for it? why can she just claim to be me anytime she gets in trouble and it's ok??
why does everyone run to help her "get better"? why doesn't anyone run to my side?
is my drowning not dramatic enough?
am i not making enough waves?
apparently there's nothing i can do to stop her from telling people she's me. they didn't figure it out this time until they finger printed her. and obviously, her fingerprints are not the same as mine. but here i am, still dealing with the repercussions of her bullshit.
and i see her.
we are in the same space and she can't even apologize?
she can't even say i'm sorry? i'm sorry you have to deal with this bullshit i caused you? i'm sorry i use your name everytime i get in trouble?
no.
i get silence.
i get nothing.
i get to watch everyone run around and try and save her.
and then today.
the real kicker.
the thing that sent me over the edge.
my mom calls me from work. oh.. good news and bad news.
my sister is getting some settlement from when she got bit by a dog. a totally pointless lawsuit. a totally selfish thing.
but she. the one who can do heroin for 4 years and fuck all our lives up. who can pretend to be me whenever she wants.
SHE.
she gets $45,000.
she gets $45,000 from a stupid dog bite.
and i'm on the phone, and i start to break down. because i can't understand this. and i haven't slept good in months and there are joan of arcadia reruns on sci-fi and i'm freaking out because i can't find a job and i have shit to pay and my mom tells me this.
shannon is getting rewarded for being a junkie with a huge amount of cash.
and i start to cry. and hate. and i tell my mom that i can't understand why she gets to fuck everyone over and she gets rewarded. why do i try and be good and i can't even get a job?
and my mom says.
oh..
shannon just got a job too.
and i said.
FUCK HER.
and she hung up on me.
but what else can i say at that point?
what am i supposed to say? or feel?
i feel like it's all pointless. like why do i even try?
why not just go shoot up?
it seems to work for her.
she has everyone helping her out. she has a huge amount of money. she can use my name and get my license suspended and have zero consequenses. and i can just stand by. and try. and find my fucking family memebers dead and not get so much as a chance.
a test of faith?????????
did i really need another?
she even got my dead uncle's x-wife to give her $1000 for a sober house. and this is AFTER she stole several thousand dollars from him for drugs. i worked for the man for 3 years and put up with all the bullshit and the addiction and the shit and i don't even get a thanks.
i have jack shit.
i have nothing to show but bad memories burned into my brain.
and i've been trying.
i've been trying to turn this around.
every night i go to sleep and i lie there and i try and be greatful. i lie there and think of all the things i am greatful for. i try and recount the dwindling things that i am glad to have.
and i feel like i just get slapped in the face.
i'm trying to understand.
i'm trying to get it.
my mom tells me every dog has their day.
i could really use my day soon.
or at least something good.
anything good.
or a direction or a hand or something.
because my faith is wearing thin.
my positive thoughts are starting to wane.
if this could just be the last test of faith for a couple months, i would really appeciate it.
because as much as i want to just give in and give up.
i can't.
i can mope and cry and not be me, but i can't completely give up.
it's almost a curse. because i don't want to be just another family statistic. i don't have it in me. i get to be sane enough to see everything crumble, but not smart enough to change it.
i'd like to use a lifeline, Regis.
i'd like to phone a friend.
i need a hand before i drown.
Third time.. FUCK YOU, you're dead to me.
Really.
This is getting quite old.
The Lifetime movie never ends, they just re-run it with new titles.
It's the same fucking bullshit where you ruin all our lives with your addiction and tear away at our souls with your mental illness. It always ends with needles and lies.
I'm so used to this now, I can clearly see the train-wreck coming. You don't miss the rumbling on the 8 millionth time through. You just do whatever you can to get out of the fucking way. You lock the doors. Turn on the old security camera. Lock the windows. Hold your breath. Try and disappear into thin air because her energy is so toxic, you can be taken down just by being in it's proximity.
I'm tired of bullshit excuses and pointless detox stints.
I don't believe a minute of it. not a second. You have not changed. You do not change.
It IS rinse and repeat.
And then she goes and uses my identity again.
And we have the same last name, and you have no ID, so why not? Why not just be me, whenever you get in trouble with the police?
And then I'm being interrogated on the phone, in a conference call with 2 state officers who think I stole a car from a lot that I had it towed to, after I broke down in a known drug area.
Yeah.
And they're telling me to get down to the barracks NOW. and I'm all I have no idea what you're talking about?
and you, you fucking bitch, gave them my name again.
You are not me.
I am not you.
No matter how much you wish you were me, or wish you could blame me for every mistake you've made you can't.
And you will no doubt play shocked when I will continue to not talk to you, or look in your direction.
And I will not blink.
I will not flinch.
and you can tell every counselor, friend, relative, and junkie that will listen that ALL YOU WANT IS TO BE CLOSE TO ME AGAIN. You want to be friends.
But you know what?
Too fucking bad.
The first time you totaled your boyfriends SUV and claimed to be me. The second time, you reported your purse full of prescriptions "stolen" and claimed to be me. Now this. I should press charges.
Hell, I SHOULD'VE pressed charges back when you stole my debt card and cleaned out my bank account. Lucky for you I am weak to our mom. That is all you have left between us. I can't go against the moms wishes, and for whatever godforsaken mother's love rule there is, she holds me back from getting you in more trouble than you've already dug for yourself.
But one of these times, and I say that since I know it will happen again, I will have to do something. Because I keep having flashbacks of that Dr. Phil episode where one brother got into all this trouble with the law because his brother claimed to be him every time he got into trouble. I won't let you take me down with you.
I've already fallen far enough.
You've already dragged us all down enough.
Call me when you get your shit together.
I need to get the hell out of here.
you know it's bad when your mom leaves you inspirational hallmark cards and they actually make you cry. and how she writes about how talented you are and how much she believes in you. and those dreams.. they're right out there for you to grasp. and thinking about it later in the middle of the night makes you cry more. and you wonder why you can't just get it together already.
the quicksand is deep.
and i just want to get there.. but i don't know where there is.
i keep reading people's blogs and i'm starting to hate them. not really hate, but have an enormous jealousy for their happiness. which really isn't me. i'm not a jealous person, but i want kittens and porches full of plants. i want a quiet place to live. a house. i want to enjoy a nice breeze on that porch and have friends over. i don't even have friends i see anymore. i want to make art. actually WANT to. not just because i have to sell some to make money, but because it's pouring out of my soul. i want to be inspired again. just by life and the color of the leaves and watching things grow. i want my shine back.
i wish i had the roadmap. or some crib notes. or something.
a bus ticket to another galaxy.
for lack of better words, march blows.
it is known in small circles as the month of death.
it's proven.
don't fight it.
before i could blink, before i even knew it was march, things were going down.
the ship was sinking.
we are about to freeze.
one day my sister is checking into a facility to get her head straight.
this is good.
we are all proud.
her boyfriend drops her off.
we meet in a parking lot and talk about shannon and beam more proud. looking back all the words seem to morph into foreshadowing.
take some more.
i won't chase you down.
take some more.
(i'll be dead)
two days later and her boyfriend isn't answering the phone.
the moms and i are drawing straws as to who's gonna go over.
i thought he'd be drunk.
i hoped.
i said.. you don't think we'll walk into a law and order moment do you?
we laughed even though we all might have thought the worst.
everytime i go to their apartment a little piece of me dies.
it smells so bad.
it's death.
you hope it's not, but it is.
and the smiling pictures on the wall.
all the little wax paper baggies on the table.
the spoon.
the pills.
when i step in that room it's like one of those flash back scenes in every crime show i've ever seen. you can see it all there. but at the same time.
so many unanswered questions.
so many pieces to pick up of a puzzle i was just in the way of when it broke.
so much sadness.
i want out.
i want away.
and now he's gone.
and where does my sister go?
where can she fall now?
she was supposed to be in a new treatment center for 2 weeks.
at least 2 weeks of time to digest and process and figure out what the fuck to do next.
but no.
THAT WOULD BE TOO EASY.
she came home tonight.
my sister would wash laundry at the moms on weekends and in those 5 brief hours, chaos would break out. you could see a path of where she'd been.
just follow the crumb trail.
and lock up your valuables.
just in case.
now she will be living here.
with us.
and me.
i'm not sure where, since there are no more rooms.
i feel sick.
i want out.
can i run away on smiles?
i love her, but i love my sanity and i can't see how coming back to this evil town will help anything.
it all started here.
all the drugs. all the drama. the stealing. the lies.
all in the backyard
i feel like i'm back in that same bad lifetime movie that seems to come around like clockwork in march. it's like watching it happen. but not really being there.
there are scenes in my mind now that can't be erased.
the feeling of that apartment is hard to fade.
three days after mike died, 6 days into march my moms gets a letter from her doctor that she has diabetes. which isn't the end all. but at the same time my mom likes doctors and treating anything about as much as i like winter, so i don't know how that will go.
the letter cited early death as a nice possible outcome if she didn't get it treated.
but don't worry, sleep easy because my mom assures me she will die in march,
just not this one.
thanks mom.
two weeks.
feels like it could've been 20.
and since it doesn't usually happen, let me admit i was wrong.
vacation wasn't horrible. it was actually great. and i got to relearn that lesson that dread accomplishes nothing.
NOTHING.
it's just a waste of energy.
so the beach was good. and even though it's not the calm quiet of the cape, it had it's own charm.
and skeeball.
and the ocean is still the ocean if you sit in front of it at night.
this road is long and windy. and who the hell
left all that glass all over it?
no one said it would be easy.
change is so much harder than i thought it would be. it hurts a lot more than i
was hoping it would.
the boy is pulling out all the stops. since the bright drama works of the 4th
he's finally realizing what happened. and how much he took me for granted and
all those things i tried to communicate so many times, but that just didn't
sink in.
we're living out too much, too late.
he started with mix cds and moved onto bamboo plants for my new room.
watching reality bites with me, when it was the last movie we'd ever usually
watch even though it's one of my favorites.
each one makes me cry.
wearing me down. trying to be that guy he should've been all along.
we're finally rounding the corner to reason. and i think he's seeing that this
all had to change. we're better than this. and it was just too easy to float
along. nothing comes from floating forever.
i hope the reasoning sticks, because i am already weak to it all.
packing up all my stuff is so weird. there are holes all over the apartment
where my random crap used to be. i want to rearrange what's left so it's not so
obvious and glaring that i'm gone.
a couch, but no artwork.
a bedroom with no bed.
i just want it all to be over with.
i feel like i have no home. i'm here but not really. i'm there, but not quite.
i just want the moving to be over. let's just start that new chapter already
instead of giving ourselves paper cuts until we bleed to death on this one.
please excuse me while i whine, and cry and act lame.
it's not my fault it was so beautiful out tonight and no one cared. or the ones who cared weren't the right ones, and the ipod and the highway conspire against me everytime. and like clockwork at the longest, straightest, darkest point of the highway, this song came on.
and it gets me everytime. it's from the final scene of the last episode of Six Feet Under. when Claire drives off into the future and they flash forward to how everyone dies. i feel like i'm on the brink of death and rebirth all at once. it's scary and i just wanted a fucking hug.
don't care. don't care. don't care.
Breathe Me - Sia
Help, I have done it again
I have been here many times before
Hurt myself again today
And the worst part is there's no one else to blame
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me, I am small and needy
Warm me up and breathe me
Ouch, I have lost myself again
Lost myself and I am nowhere to be found
Yeah, I think I might break
Lost myself again and I feel unsafe
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me, I am small and needy
Warm me up and breathe me
Be my friend
Hold me, wrap me up
Unfold me, I am small and needy
Warm me up and breathe me
so....
i don't know.
same thing.
different paths. but somehow still the same. different paths with the same scenery we've been past a million times on this fast course to nowhere.
fourth of july was wonderful and horrible. great with a nice fucking drama works explosion in my backyard.
i guess i knew it was coming.
i usually do.
i knew it and i ignored.
i got ballsy.
i just didn't give a fuck.
i dug my own grave, as usual.
i've gotten reminded of this every 6 hours since, so don't worry. i didn't forget.
i didn't lay out a perfect excuse of where i was going.
i left my bag in the car so i wouldn't have to answer the phone.
he called 14 times while i was gone.
i haven't heard the messages yet.
i don't really want to.
i left my phone in the car because i didn't want to fucking report back about where i was or spin more lies about what i was doing. i didn't want to deal with it. BECAUSE WE'RE GOD DAMN BROKEN UP. and i'm sorry that i still live here. i'm sorry that my bed happens to be in your apartment. I would've been gone a long time ago if i had a choice. or more money or something. i want to be gone. i just don't know how. well i have some ideas on how, but they take time.
which i don't have.
i wish this was easy.
part of me thinks my mom doesn't really understand how things are.
and i don't understand how she can't let me move back there for a little while. like she thinks i'd be there forever or something. which i also don't understand, since i haven't been back since high school. i don't understand how my junkie mental case sister got to move back several times since she left high school, but i can't. i am good enough to redecorate every room in the house, and do lame annoying shit like drag the pool stairs out in the winter, or reorganize the basement, or to cry to every time my sister fucks someone over, but not quite better than a junkie to live with.
i guess i'm just not desperate enough.
i don't know.
and there's the 10 year class reunion and beach vacation around the corner.
like could we make life any more annoying?
i don't want to go to the reunion, and frankly if i wasn't the stupid old class president i wouldn't be there. you heard me!
i would give a big fuck you to the class reunion.. just like all those kids i'm pissed off at for not attending. like of course this thing comes along when i feel like a total mess. i feel like everyone is 23209320 steps ahead of me in the game of life, and i know that doesn't matter. in my brain, i know better than to compare myself to everyone else, but at the same time, i can't say it doesn't sting. that for maybe a millisecond i would like to be everyone else. i would like to blend, or be looked up to or something. i'd like to not flounder.
*
*
two hours later and i still don't know.
my eyes hurt. my heart hurts.
everytime he pulls the dead dad card i cry.
i am so weak.
i'm not over my own issues.
it hurts.
*
i feel bad.
i try to be logical.
i still suck.
*
i don't want to go on vacation. i feel bad because i've been dreading it. i've been dreading a lot of things. i need to get over myself. i got this card from patty today. and i felt better,
though, she probably sent it because i owed her money for the vacation. and if that was the reason, it totally worked, because i sent her my check today. either way, it made me smile, and remember for a minute that my friends love me. that they know me. they know i'm fat and fucked up and they don't care. or they play good on tv.
i don't even care.
i'm tired.
i'm sorry i can't explain why my mom won't let me move back in with her. i realize this means that i suck. you don't have to keep telling me. and telling me then hugging me two hours later doesn't change anything. i'll still remember what you said. all i can do is try to change and try to get the hell out of here.
i'm sorry i dug this grave, but i think it was necessary.
i wish i had the fast forward button.
i wish i knew it all worked out.
i wish i was strong enough to not cry when he tells me how much i suck.
maybe i cry because i know it's true.
or i've just been feeling that way so it's so much easier for me to believe.
i couldn't tell you.
it's almost light out.
i was tired a long time ago.
Where the hell have I been?
a time vortex, you say?
I could only wish.
Time has been flying and it hasn't all been pretty. The usual family drama that ends with whatever section of the family deciding we're not good enough, or rich enough, or have shiny enough teeth or whatever the fuck it is to any longer be invited to family events, such as graduation parties. Which really is all fine and good because I didn't want to hang around with those assholes anyways, but it's the principle. It's the fact that my family is dwindling still.
It's amazing how much money fucks with people. How quickly people give into feeding that giant house, quick everyone smile for the camera persona.
I'll never forget my mom's brother. They had a Christmas eve party every year. It started when I and my cousin who was two years older than me were little. It used to be a family thing a family and close friends of the family thing. It was one of the best nights of the year.
Time goes on.
We got older, they got bigger houses.
Christmas eve becomes less special.
The bigger the house, the more and more people at the party aren't friends, but really just people you want to impress with your party, and your house. We get older and we get downgraded. We are not rich, but we actually loved them, but that didn't really matter. By the last year, and the biggest house at this dinner party of a Christmas eve my mom had to sit out in the kitchen with strangers, because all of their important people they knew from whatever lake they vacation on were sitting with them at the dining room table. I was 16 and sitting with the little kids in the basement.
The year after that I was too sick to go, and the year after that my mom stopped going. There's a point where you just have to let it go. They eventually moved out of state and didn't even tell my mom.
So, this is like that, but my dad's side of the family.
And by the time this uncle's wife got into her giant house, she threw him out.
and he still has to mow their gigantic lawn for them.
I shouldn't really be surprised that weren't invited to the stupid graduation party.
And with the dad being dead, that leaves us at a disadvantage. Our link is dead. I'll never forget when my cousin looked at me at my grandmother's funeral and said, "Oh I forget you were even a "insert our last name here". I wanted to hurt her.
Like there we are.. HER who when she was little said, "mom said once grandma k dies we can go to disneyland!". And she said it so perfectly normally. But there we are, at the funeral she didn't cry until her friends showed up. She turned it on for them large. And was miraculously over it after that. But I digress.
I'm not really sure why I always still think the best of people for so long.
But anyways.. was there a point to this?
Bullshit that's happened lately keeping me from being awesome?
Everything managed to break/runout out etc. at the very same time. and I somehow forgot that June is a slow month. So the brakes on my car magically stopped working.
And I'm pretty sure I've covered how awesome it is to have no car before. You can just go reread that entry. So it started there. In a month where I'm already broke.
And my printer ran out of ink.
And I got a good sized button order and didn't have enough parts or really extra money to order them.
I got an email that a $60 book I mailed to Australia in March didn't get there yet.
I didn't see the boy for too many weeks.
I could go on.. but I suddenly don't feel like it.
I've reached my bitching quotient.
And really, the point should have been that things have finally turned around.
Are turning around.
The upswing.
At least it always comes back.
I got my button parts extra fast, and that guy's book magically showed up at his house 3 days later.
I still have no damn printer ink though or brakes.
Brakes are ranking over ink.
Everyone get in line.
And I finally got to see the boy again, which has this magic ability that makes me smile more and glow brighter.
And I forget how it came up, but at some point tonight we were talking about the psychic cat that shows up at my window when I think about him. And I said how I hadn't seen him in long time, though I hadn't really thought about him either. I laughed and said I'd probably see the cat tomorrow now.
So there I was, walking home and halfway up the street I see this cat figure walking towards me. Sort of walking then stopping like he wasn't really sure. So I made the hey cat come here! noise and running towards me comes the psychic cat!
I'm pretty sure i said PSYCHIC CAAAAAAT! outloud.
I'm also pretty sure the people who's house I was infront of probably thought I was crazy because I whipped out my phone to take a picture of the cat.. just incase I had to prove to a court of law, or to the boy, that I actually did see the cat tonight.
Now if I could only harness my powers for good useful purposes.
You know, like being the Cat Whisperer or something.
haha
Ok.
I'm ending this here with my renewed promise to myself to write more.
And an older picture of the cat that's connected to my brain.
Wow. I really can't believe I just lost all of that last post.
That is so damn in line with how things have been going lately and I'm
really trying to break the cycle because I really can't take much more.
The glass is half full. There are rainbows and gravity bongs.
REALLY.
but some of that entry really needed to be written because I'm serious and stuff about these things.
So, where to begin. Grandma Kay died. I hadn't seen her in years. The whole thing has just set off a chain ugh. I don't know. I feel so drained and I still keep crying over anything or everything when I really am not upset. Maybe it's just frustration. Maybe I'm just getting tired of being the one holding it together.
So there was the whole wake and funeral deal. I dreaded every moment of it. I hate wakes. HATE them. They are all weird and awkward and that whole line where you're shaking hands with people you can't remember and who might remember you. And there I was. My uncle had previously promised I wouldn't have to stand in the hand shaking line, that I just had to be there and could sit in the back. But no. No one ever means anything they say. I learned that much. I learned everyone is a bunch of shit talkers too. So I stood in the uncomfortable line between my sister and my uncle's soon to be x wife who I had not seen in years. And she hugged me and played all perfect an nice just as I knew she would. We all smiled and pretended to forget all the mean things she said about all of us and my grandmother. We just keep shaking hands and nodding and forgetting that she forced my uncle to put my grandmother in a nursing home when she started to lose her mind. She actually moved out and refused to move back until my grandmother was gone.
But I'm getting off track here....
So I hate wakes and when I die I really don't want one. Please. Promise? PINKY SWEAR!
Really. I don't want all that weirdness. There should be a party with a bonfire. Get really drunk. Smoke lots of weed. Tell all the classic stories we shared. Bust out the pictures of the weird Al perm and recount the shrub writing adventures. Remember my 'crazy time' when I ran away to Utah. But for the love of god don't have the traditional wake bullshit. If you must see my dead hotness you can go in and say hi, but there will be no line of handshaking and I'm sorry for your loss crap. It's weird and I don't like it. and I will totally be watching. so I'll know if you don't do what I want.
But back to the funeral fun at hand. So my moms who is a funeral pro is usually who I'd go with to such a thing. She'd talk for me. Remind me who the hell everyone was. I don't know... bear the burden that is the madness of our family. But no.
She wasn't there.
She was in Atlantic City. She had planned a vacation ages ago. She lucked out. She earned her vacation after the hell of a year my sister put her through. My aunt and uncle told her it was ok that she didn't go to the funeral and whatnot, but of course made comments to the contrary later. Uncle J seems to have plenty of shit to say about everyone and it's starting to piss me off. Like talk the hell about people in glass houses. Who was in the hospital 3 days earlier because they had a seizure from alcohol withdrawal? AHEM? And my mom does so much shit for him and he would make off handed comments about her not being there. But what can you say to him?
UGH.
So my mom wasn't there, and I hadn't talked to my sister since ages ago. So I was totally alone on this.
And did i mention the rain?
It rained for days and days. The floor in the back seat of my car had so much water in it I probably could've had goldfish living in there. I just did an entire load of laundry that was just towels from soaking up water in my car.
awesome.
---------------------
(It's a week later than when I started writing this post. I seem to start a lot of them and not finish, but I really want to just get this all out in one big purge and move on. so here we go...)
I didn't cry at the wake. I barely misted. It so didn't look like her. Her hands were her hands but otherwise she could have been any other old lady, which almost made it easier. And the moment I got to the wake my uncle says, "So you can give your sister a ride to the funeral tomorrow right?"
and I laughed at him.
I mean we hadn't spoken in months it seemed funny.
He assured me it wasn't. And so as usual me and the sister were forced into talking. and i guess I'm glad to have finally just gotten those first words over with. and a half apology on her part taken as seriously as anything out of her mouth can be taken. But somehow this funeral ride got me caught right back up in the storm that is Shannon. Before I know it I'm buying her things and defending her. And I get further roped in by my mom to take my sister to all her probation meetings and methadone clinic visits and whatever the hell else she thinks up along the way.
And I did it because I am weak to my mom and she has enough bullshit to deal with from everyone else in the family who suddenly thinks they're almighty for trying to save my sister this month.
Like, yeah, thank you.
but don't say my mom just wanted my sister out of sight out of mind.
Don't imply she never did anything for her, when all the past 2 and half fucking years, have been her giving every last dime, hour, prayer and thought into trying to get my goddamn sister better. Maybe she was just smart enough to realize the kid had to hit bottom? Maybe it's all just how it had to happen. I don't know. But a lot of mean shit got said, and I guess it's all been smoothed out now, but it all just really sits bad with me.
Somewhere around the funeral good old uncle j realized he in another drunken smart move gave my sister his debit card, which she promptly used to her shiny new wardrobe's benefit. I'm pretty sure he said she no longer exists to him. He called me twice today.
I actually missed the first call and just didn't want to deal when I saw the second one.
I'm really glad there are no holidays anytime soon.
And I had never been so glad to be home than I was on Tuesday. Like the second my car was done being fixed I got the hell out of dodge. My sister just has this ability to drain you. She's all over the place and one thing after another before you've even began the first. And nothing is ever right. An 8:00 appointment becomes a 9:30 one and before I know it I'm crying in the clinic parking lot watching people rush in, in time to get their daily dose. 2 days with her and I'm crying behind sunglasses in a parking lot. I don't do things like that normally. That's just not me. I don't like feeling that unhinged every second. I don't like finding myself wanting to scream anytime I'm alone. It was seriously the longest days ever. And I had barely any sleep. And it was just too much too soon.
And all that other drama going on at the same time. and it's really hard not to get pissed at her when you see her in her new clothes as she acts oblivious to the fact that the family is self destructing in on itself and it's all because of her. And I just can't handle that much of her energy yet. I hope she gets the help she needs. I hope she can stop lying long enough to take all these opportunities.
I'm glad we can speak but I'm keeping her at an arms length. She sent me a letter, but I haven't read it yet. She sorta told me what it said but yeah.
Grandma Kay was right. The family IS a jungle.
