Yes, you read correctly. Still without internet. I can’t even get into it. Let’s just say a woman in India got another piece of my mind and I cancelled the service entirely. I got a bill the very next day for internet I never had but that’s another story. I was talking to Dez about my internet woes and how I planned on making a phone call to Time Warner to get internet from them and she informed me that she was quite certain that Time Warner didn’t service our neighborhood and that, surprise, surprise Verizon is my only option. Tsk. Tsk.
In other news I found out from my mother last week that my sister is back in rehab and that she was using while pregnant with my newest nephew. The good thing is that JD is doing wonderfully. So far he’s physically and developmentally doing well. Me, I’m fucking pissed. I cannot even begin to talk about my frustrations with my sister. Immediately I get pissed off and annoyed that I’m almost in my thirties, I have only one sibling and she’s the worse possible excuse for s sister. I get pissed that I don’t have a connection with her. I get pissed at her selfishness. People, Christians, tell me that I’m pissed off at her addiction and not her. I have to say-I’m really just pissed off at her.
About a two years ago I went back to church. I would go every Sunday religiously and when I worked at Saks I would be done with work in time to go to St. Thomas on Fifth Ave for evening prayer service. I would pray for my sister. For a year straight I would kneel at my pew with tears streaming down my face praying for her. Every time I was in church my prayers went to her.
There’s this line in my favorite Dave Matthews song that goes, “I pray but they fall on deaf ears” Thats how it feels. I’m not mad at god, though. I’m not mad at cocaine, I’m only mad at her. The person who choses to make the decisions that are deciding the fate of two innocent lives. More than the lives of my nephews, her children, the lives of my parents are effected. Two people in their mid-fifties who are raising children again. My life. When my parents die, and they will die, who will care for these children? Me. I’m not selfish, do not misunderstand. These are the facts at hand. My parent’s have custody of two children with different fathers. Said fathers are worthless excuses for humans, let alone fathers and the courts have decided such. So when my parents pass away and their fathers have been deemed unworthy and their mother, my sister, also deemed unworthy instead of turning to the system who else is there but me?
These are the thoughts in my head. My sister, the fucking whore bitch who’s ruined the lives of so many. The state of my immediate family and the roles that people play. My nephews who have been adopted by my parents so that now they’re my brothers, legally speaking. My guilt for leaving the family that’s turned into denial that they existed and now has developed back into guilt that keeps me awake at night-yet not strong enough to force me to return home to do anything. What can I do, really, to undo all of these wrongs. Nothing. Absolutely nothing so I’ve evolved to this place where I’m pretty numb to it all. Except for the sheer blood red anger and hatred I feel towards the closest blood relative-my sister.