See You 'Round, Sexy Robots

I made a couple posts in the depression thread of the forums a couple days ago.

For context, they are as follows:

I'm not sure how to tactfully unleash all the previously restrained rage and frustration on my sister. I am wholly aware that things can go very badly. But something needs to change. Now. And if that means going away in a cell or another asylum for a while and further fucking up my chances of... I don't know. It's not like I have any real plans for a better future. Fuck it.

She's a worthless piece of shit trying to mooch off the rest us without taking any responsibility for her mistakes and expects us to take pity on her because she has a 4 year old kid that she has made into just as big a cunt as she is. It's gotten to the point that even when they finally shut their mouths, every minute they're in this place at the same time it's like nails on a fucking chalkboard. I'm done trying to reason with her, trying to walk away, and trying to get everyone else to realize how fucking volatile I am going to get if she doesn't leave. I need her out of my life, and one way or another, it's going to fucking happen. So if I'm not around for while, there's a little glimpse as to why.


Welp, we had a family discussion between me, her, and our 8-years separated parents. Suggestions about counseling or writing lists about things we could compromise on were brought to the table, but that was all bullshit, and I said as much. Because every prior attempt I made to ask her over the past two years to be more considerate of my peace and solitude, which has been a major factor in keeping me sane, was either thrown back in my face or shot down. Which would've been fine, if she had gotten her shit together and moved out. But she quit her job at Wendys last month (she has a masters in sociology, by the way, yet she want to get a teachers doctorate), and now she can't go anywhere because she has no money. But the fact of the matter is that we need to be in two completely different places or very bad things are going to happen.

Nobody agreed with me on this. They wanted counseling or dumbass lists that I know she won't fucking adhere to.

I said that I don't like her as a person, and this is the first time I've ever had to deal with living with a person like this. It's so easy to stay calm when you can walk in the other direction, far away from that person, especially if they're a stranger. But we're in a dinky little trailer home. The walls are paper fucking thin. And she wants to bring other peoples kids home like it's a goddamn day care, having them hooting and hollering while watching ghostbusters at 12am, and theres two other people in the house that have to go to work in the goddamn morning.

My mother is a good person, and a good mother, so I don't fault her for not wanting to toss my sister out, despite her disgusting attitude and hairbrained decisions that everybody else sees and knows about but her, thinking everything is just jim fuckin dandy. She's not the one with problem. No, that couldn't possibly be it. She's always right. She always knows what's up. She keeps it real. Or some shit.

So, during the discussion, when I bring up the fact that I don't want to raise her child for her by keeping the kid (a girl) in line, she brought up the first time I reached my limit, which was about two months ago.

Our rooms are right next to each other, so when the kid started jumping and stomping like a wild child for minutes on end (and she's just sitting there in the bed, again, thinking nothing is out of place here) while I'm trying to catch up on Game of Thrones after working the opening shift that day, I calmly went over to her room, peeked my head through the door, and asked her to keep the noise level down.

"Yeah, ok. You hear that, Pip? Uncle asked you to be quiet."

I walk back into my room and keep watching the show. One minute later.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP

I open my door and raise my voice but I'm not yelling. Could you please stop? She stops. I close my door.

Not even ten seconds later, THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP

Their door is cracked open, so I punch it fully open and walk in. She looks at me as if I've lost my mind (and to be fair, I fucking have, at this point), telling me to ask permission before coming in and that she could call the cops on me for what I just did. All I wanted to know was why she wasn't doing what I asked of her. I started calming myself down, trying to rationalize with her about how the noise level should be controlled.

"Shes only four years old. Children make noise."
"Yes, but you can control it."
"By doing what, holding her down? Beating her?"

So what I'm getting from her at this point is that she basically doesn't know how to raise her child right, even though all she has to do is look at how our mother tries tirelessly to train her, and nothing I say will convince her that she's wrong in the ways she's been going about it. Okay. Fine. Let's try talking to the kid.

And even though I know I'm no good with children anymore, I try to put on my best "Uncle's not a scary man, he's your friend, and he's also an adult, so you should listen and do what he tells you" face. The whole time, she's curling up into a ball under her mother, not crying but burying her face into her hands, and she displays this behavior whenever someone new is trying to say hi to her or to tell her that she did something wrong. Heaven forbid you try to sit her still for a minute and look at you. After about like 5 minutes of trying my damnedest to explain to her, like her grandma has, like her aunties have, that she needs to listen when adults ask her to do or not do something.

"See there, are you gonna be quiet for Uncle?"
"Yes."
I say thank you.
"Tell Uncle you're welcome."
"You're welcome, Uncle."

Okay. I think we've got this one in the bag. We're all smiles. We can do our own things without being at each other's throats. I believe we've made some great progress here tonight.

30 minutes later.

THUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMPTHUMP-THUMP-THUMP-THUMP.

I say fuck it and go out for a smoke or two hundred or until whenever the fuck she's put her to bed. Past 11 o clock at fucking night. Almost every night.


NOW, back to present, where the only part she brings up is how I almost broke her door down, out of nowhere. And I do exactly what I told everybody I was going to do if I had to talk to her again, to try to "compromise". To "rationalize".

I lose my shit.

I punch the computer chair so hard the back of it almost flies off and I point my finger in her face. The only three words I get out are I ASKED YOU, before my father, who's never had to live with her as she is now and after having just explained the situation to him not a half hour earlier, gets in my face and starts screaming about how I have to control my anger. I immediately take my tone back to a calm, indoors voice level. I acknowledge what he's saying, but he's still hollering at me, so I ask him to lower is voice. He's still in my face, yelling about how punching the goddamn computer chair is unacceptable. I ask him to lower his voice again. My Mother mentions that the windows are open and the neighbors might call the police. He keeps screaming at me.

And do you know what my reaction was, dear dtoiders? My dear friends, who I've grown to care about more than anyone in my immediate family. You know what I did then?

Deck him? No. Start shouting right back at him? Nope.

My instinctual reaction was to throw my hands up, say "Alright.", and walk away. I grabbed my wallet and smokes, told him to fuck off as he was trying to get a last word in, and I walked, for the second time, across two cities, to my eldest sister's home. They said I left around 9:30pm. By the time I got there, it took another half hour or so for the sun to rise, which would be around 4:30am. I walked, that whole time, sober this time. And do you know what I did when I got to her doorstep? I waited.

She has her own family. She doesn't need to get dragged into this, and I know I can't stay there because I already asked, two months ago. So, considerate asshole that I am, I waited 4 more goddamn hours before knocking on their door. My eldest sister was born from my mother's previous marriage. She is a very wise, capable, and hilarious woman. Her husband runs his own business from home and he makes bank. Also very wise and funny. They've had their fair share of family squabbles but they generally run a peaceful and loving home. Something I never got as an adolescent.

So I'm not about to fuck their shit up with my issues. All I needed from them was a ride back home, so that I can return the PS3 I've been borrowing from another dear friend who lives a couple blocks away from my eldest sister's house. My sister and her husband, they already know my plight, firsthand, from when the cunt lived with them for a stint and actually managed to find her own place. Her own place that was way out of her dinky little Wendy's paycheck budget.

They gave me a ride back. We talked, we laughed, and we hugged.

So here I am, dear c-bloggers and forumites, about to call up homeless shelters to ask if they have any extra rooms open. About to walk away from my comfy little room with all my shit in it. About to walk away from the one thing I was just starting to think I could count on.

Stability.

The more things change, the more they stay the same...


I love you guys. And I hope your lives never amount to what mine has for me. Keep each other laughing. Keep each other safe. And keep your boners raised high.

Peace.