Interesting lately watching the world pass by us as it does…Don and I, I had mentioned, are pretty distanced from all family members–birth adoptive, who I picked up last year, you know. I kid, but for years the idea of family didn’t really ring any comforting bells because these people I was handed off to or related to–they never really knew me, barely know a hell of a lot now and do not really care to know anything but what they’ve assumed.

You see how I am here, speaking my mind–not a hell of a lot different am I in person–I often say things that make people super uncomfortable or they are just generally shocked I do say what I mean, and I really fucking try to mean what the fuck I say. I realize what I sometimes do end up saying isn’t really intended to make you feel warm and googly inside and sometimes pisses people off. Guess what holding my tongue does? Does it give me another 3 days of joyful living? Nope, and who would be able to say much about the quality in that circumstance? Not a fuck of a lot.

We’ve been in this building going on 3, 3 and a half years now…Almost 4 years in less than 500 sq feet is probably not the worst situation anyone has found themselves in–but nothing has been done here from that first weekend we worked. The floor is still peeling up, my kitchen cabinets are held in place with a rotisserie propped up underneath it–there is still asbestos in the building, there is still the fact my bathtub is placed in front of regular drywall that is blackened at the edges from mold and mildew we breathe in with every shower. Now…I have at different points in time tried to ask her family for assistance…mentioned it to her mother, mentioned it to my aunt–who turned around and told me I was ungrateful. Which, if me being upset about the condition of the apartment I live in makes me ungrateful—COOL. As I mentioned to her…no improvements were made for me to fucking live here Don and I did not do directly–we even scrubbed bloody phlegm off the walls and did what we could to make it not disgusting. But because there has been no progress which I relayed to my aunt? Well–I am apparently a garbage person for not appreciating the sacrifices my birth mother did not make having us do two units here and find tenants for the third. Okay, it made her feel uncomfortable which is in and of itself a sacrifice, but wouldn’t it be nice if all of our sacrifices put that $2,700 in my pocket a month over the $400 in total she got for here before we moved in? Ohh, that yucky perspective thing again–she has no appreciation. I definitely gotta go.

Which is fine, because if that’s all it takes to make people dislike me?–these people’s religions really did a number on them to be so fucking hateful and judgmental.

So my definitions of family have changed over the years simply because of participation–there is literally not a single person…well aside from my birth father because he is an invested person–but I have changed the people I consider family over the years based on location. I have always defined my family as…the people I choose to keep close to me. They are not related, and though yeah, I clearly have some actual related–their investment in my general day to day existence are nil to none. And that has been my common denominator my whole life–this family struggle or really just a figuring out I didn’t really have anyone I could count on under the umbrella of family. As it is when I have found myself in trouble I don’t call any of them. I call someone else who is not related, the big Piggy, to be honest. Yeah..he’s an ex boyfriend and yeah he is invested in me and yeah…he doesn’t have to be, but he has not ever let me down. Almost every other person has (except Don of course)–in the grand scheme of being there for people has let me down, avoided me, or disappeared. Now I realize when I do need help it’s not the normal kind of let me borrow an egg but something bigger–it’s usually some big crisis for money–because, once again, when you are sick, you get to have exactly nothing!

As far as emotional support is concerned? That’s been all me for years. This is only because until like 3 weeks ago…I had nobody to talk to or commiserate with my experiences at all and by the time I found them? Well I guess I am seen as the expert now because I have almost done it all. I am already as broken as I am going to be, I suppose and it’s almost too late for me to get any of that empathetic help because there is no investment in the girl who is already almost fully patched? Yeah, I am a unicorn of sorts…but who really cares, honestly?!?

I am just not that fucking interesting at this point anymore.