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Mhm. The stuff I wrote yesterday, it was written out of reminescence.
It just suprised me how even though I am mostly beyond that stuff, that when he died, I felt so....relieved, so free. When my sister was first diagnosed with diabeties and was in a coma in the hospital for almost a week, during one of the million trillion times I called her, a nurse gave her flowers, and told her they arrived at the front desk for her. She read the card and almost cried, because they were from him. Like some silly flowers were going to make up for even a smidgeon of anything he did, said. Or like he was reminding people that he was still around. Or like he was putting up a front that he expected us to play along with. A sick play that we had to recite our lines in, directed by him, telling everyone everything is happy, dandy and ok.
But it made me fiercly angry that he did it, that he still affected people like that, from a stupid simple act. Or it made me angry that I almost couldnt help myself getting all riled up and angry over something stupid like that.
I was talking to my brother about that, and I said about how I kindasortawantedtopullameanprankonhimasrevenge.
I know. Immature; ammature; childish.
My brother just laughed and gave me the guy's phone number. I'm sure by now you guys know who "the guy" is, but I'm not comfortable saying his legal family position, or his real name.
I wanted to do something really really mean, something that would devastate him; make him crumble; make him feel one thousandth of a fraction of what I've ever felt, because of him. My grandmother died in September; it prolly wouldnt take very much.
I called the number. The phone picked up; there was some fumbling.
I heard his voice, and... I froze completely. My mind went completely blank; my body fully numb, and all of a sudden, I had this severe anxiouse QUICKRUNAWAYRUNAWAYFAST kinda feeling inside. I hung up the phone, ran to bed, and tightly wrapped myself in my cover.
Soon after that....I realized I really dont care about him anymore. He could win the lottery; shoot his head off, whatever.
I just felt a teensy bit uneasy, for the fact that he was still around, alive, and...not so mentally stable. Honestly, it was a real fear that he might hurt someone. He had a few guns, and...just the way he was. You just kinda knew.
Mhm. When no one was around, he used to tell me about how my mom, how he himself is a terrible terrible father, that he raised a good Christian girl, and along the way she abandons Christianity, adopts a heathen religion, marries a heathen guy and bred heathen offspring, all doomed for hell.
And other stuff like that.
Hey, I was....12, untill around 16, 17, till he stopped. The way I was then, of course it affected me a little. I didnt believe him, no, of course not, but I let myself get angry, let my extreme hate of him grow and fester.
Hate and love are strong words. I've recognized that for quite a while. I purposly watch how I use the word hate, because I know the way I am, I love too easy; too strongly. So if I say I love you, I really do. At the most, I've strongly disliked very few people. Most people were just annoying dorks, you know? I mean, even the kids at school, who used to mercilessly torture me, from this point of view, I kinda hated them. Kinda hated them, because with my frame of mind then, how I always secretly thought myself worthless and deserving of everything they did (I dont know why I thought that 0.o ), so in actuallity, I let them bully me, let them throw rocks and loose change at me, let them throw gum at my hair, spit on me...and other things they've done. The way you think about yourself, it usually shows externally. If you think you're ugly, than you are, ect.
But yes. Back to where I was prior.
That guy, hate seems a sort of weak word, but only when I think of what he did to others. And I take the strength of words seriously.
There were times, it would get too much for me to take. Everything he did and said to me, saying stuff about his own daughter and his own relatives, telling me we were less than dirt, worth shit, doomed to hell, and I would angrily tell him off. It was those times that he would say derrogatory things constantly to me, like call me a dirty bitch and a whore in front of my siblings, when he babysat when my mom first worked. He would give a total of so much money to my siblings, purposly in front of me, just so I would feel...those feelings that I ended up feeling. I think he wanted me to think/believe that I needed him or something, I dunno. I hated that, the tactics he used, but I was glad because during those times that's all he was doing. Nothing more; nothing less.
Much much later, I told my grandmother the basics. Not the stuff he did, just some of the stuff he said. It was around that time that I think she confronted him about it, and then she suddenly mysteriously started to strongly dislike me. She made it very apparent, and even now, my mom wont tell me what he said to her that she actually believed him, and would make her react in that way.
She died angry at me.
And I couldnt care less. She knew the truth inside; She just didnt wanna see it. I mean, how can you live with somone for so many years, and not know something like that?
I dont want to bother/concern myself with those types of people; people who like not knowing the truth because then they feel better. It applies to people who dont want to know the truth about politics and such; they are comforted by what they see on TV.
Just an example. =P
Heh, mention of the kids at school.....
A ramble for another day, methinks.
Like I said before, these are just reminiscent ramblings. Old junk in the closet. I'm rather fine, actually. ;P
Mhm, my mom, I cant live with her for the summer. I guess I can visit, but that's it. She was saying something about another part of the ceiling/wall/floor went out, ect ect. It's not new news, but the place is much worser now than when I left it. I remember how drugged up on different medicines I had to be just to be barely ok, so maybe its a good thing, yeah?
*shrugs* I'm not worried.
Although my mom keeps pushing this program called JobCorp on me....
*wrinkles nose*
But! I will figure out a plan! Considering my uncle might not really kick me out, if he kinda sorta forgets. I mean, if he gets over it. <.<;;
Spring break! It started last night, after class was over.
For quite a few, though, it started when they cut out in the very early middle of class.
Watch my phone ring off the hook, those girls asking me what the huge-ass project we have due after break, what it's about, ect.
That's not really fair, but...
I cant bring myself to say no. I dont know why.
;;;
And there you have it.
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