don't it make you sad about it
2003-02-07 - 5:27 p.m.

Things have been kind of gritty lately.

Does anyone want to hazard a guess as to what that might imply? The only idea I come up with is a mental image of me eating sand.

Mmmm, grit.

Yesterday had an incident that proved to me once and for all that my mother isn't just atrociously forgetful, that there is definitely something very not right in her head.

I don't know how to deal with that. I mean I can't even deal with me, and now... Now I'm just learning more helplessness.

Last night was too hard to sleep. I remembered the doctor saying there is no cure and that it would only get worse over time.

I can't explain how heartbreaking it was later on that day when my mother asked me if the doctor had mentioned whether she might get better.

Argh, I need to stop writing. I'm only getting myself worked up as well as turning Diaryland into GriefspreadingLand.

Yesterday also proved uncomfortable as was coerced into making a trip to the supermarket with my 'brother'.

Sitting in a silent car with someone you have absolutely nothing to say to with the knowledge that you both share genetic material is beyond awkward at best.

Sometimes I wonder why we have the relationship of friendly neighbours when we're really brother and sister. I'm aware of the age gap (duh... 21 yrs... old enough to be my father really) but I think that could have been overcome if one of us had tried. No, let me rephrase that, if he had tried. Afterall he was the one that left me on my own when I was eight with our freak parentals so he could go start a family of his own.

Not that I blame them, of course, I'm twice as close to his wife than I am to him and five times closer to their kids... But still. He could have come over sometimes. Just to hang out or something. Or made basically any kind of real effort whatsoever.

Okay so I'm resentful. But if you used to have a brother who read you stories and gave you jelly and didn't let you watch Silence of the Lambs when you were little, and then you got a little bit older and found you no longer had a brother at all, you'd be bitter too.

Now that I'm all growned up I could make the effort. But it's too late, I feel betrayed and unwanted. So we'll just continue on as we always have. A friendly neighbour I use to get to his children.

I love being an Aunty. I don't mind their temper tantrums, mainly because I still throw many of my own. Plus their happiness is so pure.. there faces do the lighty-upy thing over the smallest things.

And you can't help but smile and go "Aw!" when they do something like write "Barbara rocks!" on your whiteboard. Aw.

This entry turned out to be ultra familial. Weird perspective shift, I don't usually give them this much thought.

In other news, I haven't quit yet (urgh) but I have opened a new bank account.

1 out of 2 ain't bad... it's just not good either.


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