This Was Inevitable

So it's over.

You remembered my birthday two years in a row.  Why you forgot this year, I don't know.  But that hurt.  I would say that hurt almost as much as demanding to be taken to the hospice to see my dying aunt but only almost because it isn't as dire or serious.  You had a million chances to come with me when I did her laundry every week and see her before she passed away but you did not take them because you wanted to sleep.

I can't stand by and watch you defeat yourself.  Perhaps you do need therapy.  Maybe you don't.  I don't know.  I know your medications cause you to forget things and to sleep a lot, but seriously, 5 minutes out of your day not to pick up the phone and say "hello"?  Even if it was a day early, I'd be okay with it.  If you hadn't remembered the first two years, I'd be okay with it.  But no.  You fucked up big time, and I'm not as forgiving now, and what's worse, is that I told you that after the thing with my aunt.

Maybe it's time for you to learn that actions have consequences.  Pity that your parents didn't teach you that lesson.  Pity that you didn't learn to be nice to people.  That's not a part of your condition; I know bipolar people and schizophrenic people who've learned manners, even if occasionally they're awkward.

But you?  You don't take the time to care or listen.  And while I hate to say this, no, you do not get to tell black people what's racist or not.  It's up to the person to decide what they're comfortable with.  Asking stupid white questions is one thing, but saying that someone shouldn't find things racist is another.  Build a bridge and get over it.

I'm done.

Seriously?

Sometimes I wonder why I talk to you on the phone.  I feel like it's a fifth grader recounting his day at school, except with crap from the History Channel or Fox News.  It bores me.

*sigh* And he seemed so good...

Open Letter

Dear People On Pinterest,

Just stop.  No, not with the pinning of unfunny jokes and recipes that look like something a cat threw up, but the stupid "yer a hoor" bullshit.  As someone who has occasionally dresses like a slut and has a lot of sex, I would prefer that you keep your jealousies to yourself.  Just because you wear tents and chastity belts doesn't mean I have to, and further more, doesn't mean anyone else has to, either.  If your immediate opinion of me is "stupid whore" when I wear a short skirt and show my ample cleavage, the problem is with you, not me.  You know what you sound like?  That one really drunk guy at the bar who was throwing a fit because no one was paying attention to him and he decided to lean over to one chick who was obviously part of a girls' night out, grabbed her shirt, and loudly proclaimed, "THAT'S A SLUTTY MATERIAL YOU'RE WEARING!"  Yes, you're that guy.

Likewise, can we stop with the "skinny bitches" remarks?  Even though I am no where near a skinny bitch size, I know plenty of skinny bitches, and they're that way because even though you manage not to call them a skinny bitch, it's written all over your face.  Some people won the skinny in the genetics lottery.  Get over it.  In the words of Rosanne Barr, "It's okay to be fat.  So you're fat.  Just be fat and shut up about it."  Also, if you don't want people to call you a "skinny bitch", don't imply that fat is the worst thing you could possibly be.  Many, many things are worse than being fat.  Death of a loved one/pet, splinters, car accidents...I could go on.

In other words, don't be a dick.  Thank you.

Hints

I really hate it when you sit by the supervisor at work. You hear almost everything in a cube farm, even if you're trying to be quiet. But the one thing that should be obvious to everyone is that if you are a supervisor, and you are bitching about an employee, and said employee sits right next to your cubicle, you may not want to bitch about them while they are at their desk. Especially if you say some very specific things that they can hear and reasonably assume that they are the subject of said bitching. At the very least, carry on that conversation elsewhere when said employee promptly comes in at the same time every day.

I guess it's time to dust off the old resume and update it. For the record, I don't care if people bitch about me, but for the love of dog, at least have the decency to do it out of earshot.

So I guess this is it.

I remember when I was younger and my aunt lived with us. I remember all of the bus rides as child, going shopping with my aunt.

Northridge Mall - I was very young and well, somewhat stupid. I was on the second floor of the mall and the typical upper floor had railings that you could look down to the first floor. Railings that were metal, and spaced just far enough for a child's head to pass through. I know this, because that's what I did. Unfortunately, I hadn't counted on ears. It scared the hell out of my aunt because she was ready to call the fire department to get me out. I did get my head on my own but because of said ears, it hurt.

There are so many memories swirling about in my head. I know that she had a good run, and that the last few months have been really, really hard on her. She does not want any life-saving measures anymore and just wants to be comfortable now. This is the part of life that's the hardest - the goodbye. It's so very necessary but so very sad. I will miss her. We all will.

The part I hate the most about this is that life goes on. It would be nice if time stopped just for a brief moment so that you could collect yourself so that you could move on easier. Second best, though, is being able to say goodbye. And now, this death will be about holding a hand, stroking hair, and saying "I love you". If only every person could die so comforted.

I'm running away.

I'm running away, far away, away from everything. I don't want anyone to care about me anymore, and I don't want to care about anyone. I want to run. It's so deeply ingrained into me even as a little child, this instinct to run. There never was a time where there was a fight response, it was all flight.

I'm going to run away. Chances are, I won't, because of all of those stupid shows and people that try to make you stay, you can't run away from problems or some such bullshit. The truth is you can. I would not recommend running from the law, but as long as that's not the case, you can run.

And I so desperately want to right now. To just go and be free. I want to run.

I have a bad feeling about this.

A really bad feeling.

It wasn't as laser sharp as the feeling I got with my mom, but it's close. I'm trying to stay positive, like I did with my mom...but I can't help it.

Now to buck up and suck it in, put on a smiling face, and try not to let the worry seep through.

I wish hospitals had face sanitizers. That would make this easier.