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'Ello, love. I'm Dan, an admin for the forums. Come down and say things to us. You'll float, too.

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"Nihil" is the pseudonym I use for writing and gaming on the internet. I came across Destructoid by searching for information on Way of the Samurai 3. Tubatic had the most comprehensive coverage on it I'd seen anywhere.

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2:15 AM on 07.19.2012

Since the whole ordeal went by relatively quickly, it all feels like a ridiculously lucid nightmare at this point.

During that week I lost a father, a sister, and one of the best friends I've ever had (which is its own fucked up thing that I will exclude for confidentiality). I don't see any way, even in the long term, of having them back in my life and being better off for it. This is where our paths diverge, for a long time, because there's no going back to the way things were.

Not for me.

That Sunday, after writing what I thought would be my final post, Eric sent me a message over twitter, offering me his place to stay at for a while. I told him that I barely had enough gas money for the week to go to work, let alone a trip up-state. He once again offered his help, be it a loan or whatever.

I can't ever thank you enough for that, Eric, and you all in the comments for your support.

I've only met this man in person once. He's great. Knutaf and his wife Leia are great. Occams, Law, Bey, COM, Steezy, Andy... ALL of you helped me feel like I belong somewhere.

After reading his second message of generosity, it was too overwhelming. I couldn't help but feel myself losing it again, because I was going to lose him. I was going to lose everyone here.

Instead of doing all the horrible things I fantasized about doing to my sister, Tiaca, I pounded my fists and knee into the brick wall out back. Then I sat defeated in the sand and gravel as my mother came out to patch me up. She called my eldest sister to come over to help, either by talking to Tiaca or letting me stay at her house for the night. At this point I was still convinced that I was going away, so I started cleaning clothes.

My eldest, her husband, and her son came over. She and her husband began talking to Tiaca.

I walked in and out of my room while cleaning my clothes, but I couldn't hear what they were saying because I had earplugs in and headphones on, blasting the same type of music I began listening to in order to drown out the countless shouting matches between my parents. I simply can't stand Tiaca's voice anymore. It's unbearable.

I sat in my room with my headphones on, not really watching whatever was on the television, but just spacing out, waiting for my clothes in the washing machine. Eventually, I heard Tiaca pack her truck and take off.

I found out later that my eldest and her husband convinced Tiaca to leave by trying to remind her of how she felt when she was in a similar situation on the east coast, living with the father of her child. He is in the Navy, seems to have a good head on, and is not abusive as far as anyone knows. But for whatever reasons, Tiaca felt she couldn't live there anymore and had arranged for a last minute flight back to the west coast - the day before he had arranged for her and his mother to put pins on him at a ceremony. I don't really know more about that particular situation, and I don't know what to feel except sympathy for the man.

That night when she left my mother's house, I finally felt something that I hadn't felt before. Not this strongly, anyway. I felt my family's love, not through their words, but through their actions, because they saved me. And I felt remorse, for all the cynical thoughts I've had towards them in the past. Then I felt it melt away; the hopelessness, the dark thoughts. I haven't had those feelings since. I've felt something else in its stead. Hatred.

My mother didn't know that her youngest daughter had offered Tiaca her apartment to stay at while she was outta town for that weekend, which is why she thought there was no alternative to defuse the situation, even temporarily. Tiaca kept this information from her, and pretty much everyone else.

As I told my father right before the meeting that night, I didn't hate my sister. Using the word "hate" would imply that you would like to see that person suffer and/or die. I DISLIKED her. I didn't care what she was doing with her life, but I didn't want her literally dead. She's family. No matter how much you disagree, you help your family out when you can. And I did that; letting her stay here, letting her borrow my car, letting her bully my mother and I around as if she owned the house.

And now, it's pretty safe to say that I hate her.

She tried to destroy me by forcing me out of the house, in effect, taking away everything I've worked hard to maintain since I joined this website over 2 years ago. My sanity, my friendships, and possibly my future.

I can't forgive her for that. I have no idea what happened to her, but I am truly sorry for all the emotional torment she went through in her past. The sadness, the frustration, and the anger. That anger which transformed her into the wicked thing she has become now, underneath that goofy womanchild mask. Just as my anger transformed me over the years into a cynical bastard with no real care for his physical well-being. I've done away with my masks. What you see is what you get.

But there is nothing she can say now that will redeem her in my eyes. Just as there's nothing my father can say to redeem himself to me, because he has failed me.

Out of all the things he's done for me, helping the situation at hand was the one thing I was counting on to put him fully back in my good graces, because this is going down as one of the most traumatic experiences of my life. Maybe, somehow, he'll be able to take charge and make things better, like he claims he should. Maybe, just maybe, he's as wise and smart as he likes to make himself sound...

He fucking FAILED. And I will not forgive him for that.

He and my sister are very much alike, in that they only hear what they want to hear. They remember only what they want to remember. And when you try to point out the faults in their backwards logic, they flip the fuck out. They take the good will in your trying to reason with them and come to an amiable (dis)agreement, and they chew it up and spit it right back in your face. And you're left flabbergasted because all you were trying to do was understand and help them.

No more. I've enough wrinkles in my fucking forehead already.

Over these past few years, I've waited for these people to do what they needed to do, to remove these negative aspects from their character, so that we could finally begin having meaningful relationships.

But now I see their faces in my mind, those unwarranted expressions of accusation and frustration in their eyes, and all I want is to smash them in with my bare fists until there is nothing left. I hear their voices in my mind, and I start pulling my hair out because they won't shut up. And to them this means I'M the insane one, even though every other family member has the same problems with them.

It's too late for them to make it right with me now. I gave them their chances, and they blew every single one of them. I've been living my life without dire need of their assistance and now I don't want them to be a part of it, at all. There's no room in my heart left for them.

I'm not going to thank her - because, fuck that - but I did gain one very special thing from this. She gave me the one thing I've been searching/waiting for, for 10 years. Everyone can now SEE the reasons why I am the way I am, instead of it happening behind closed doors and people just having to take my word for it. Now I have the physical proof.

And I knew it. Somehow, all these years, I knew it. I'm never going to stop being angry. I'm going to have to live with this till I die. But I will continue to put it to good use. Anger has been a huge motivator in my life, to do positive things, not just the negative. When things got me angry, I got off my ass and started cleaning the house. I went out and got job applications. I worked my ass off that much harder, just to cool myself down. I stood up for people I cared about.

I am, by heart, a man of action. And sometimes in life, you're not able to do what you say you're going to do. Which is usually why, if I don't absolutely need to, I don't tell anyone what I'm going to do. I just do it. I give when I can to people I care about, akin to when I donated ten meager dollars anonymously after hearing Alpha Deus's story all those months ago. I know pain, and his sounds worse than anything I've gone through. I truly hope he survives his ordeal, just as I've survived mine, to continue doing what he loves and sharing his unique gifts with us.

I prefer doing, rather than telling. And in dealing with people like my father and sister, when words mean so little, I show them how I feel about them; by never contacting him, by almost fucking up my hand and knee against a solid brick wall, instead of her face. But they don't get it. They don't understand how goddamn lucky they are that I take out all this aggression on myself instead of them, because I've come close so many times to breaking that final barrier. And now my only hope for them is that someone or something finally makes them realize how fucking wrong they are.

I wanted to let some time pass before I went ahead and posted this, in case anything else came up or if I started feeling differently about the situation. I don't.

This isn't some phase I'm going to grow out of. This isn't the anger talking and all I will have to do is sleep it off. No, this is me, Noble Dan Carter III, their son and their brother, saying that I cannot forgive what they have done to me, and unlike them, I will NEVER forget.

[insert unnecessary 9/11 joke]

As far as I know now, Tiaca is in a female group home, being aided by the state to help her get her shit together (other than the shit in storage she's about to lose since she can't pay for the service). Your tax dollars at work, I suppose. Whether her life gets better or worse isn't my concern, but hopefully, she gets a reality check via however many shrinks it takes to talk some sense into her about decision-making skills and anger management.

As for my father, I dunno. He has his own issues to work out (if he ever does), and he's gonna have to handle them without my help. Not that he'd listen to me anyway.

And as for me, I know how to manage my anger. I like to think I do a fine enough job without having bitches and assholes to force my hand. I have my solace back. I still have my job. I still have my family.

And I still have you all to play games and make dick jokes with. I probably won't make it to PAX this year (minimum wages, go figure), but MAGfest at the very least will be a thing I do next year, if I can. Because I want that sweet forum badge.

Catch you soon.

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