A Swift Kick & A Band-Aid

There Are No More Chances, Bitch

I am exhausted

I haven't slept well in two days and tonight just happened to be one of the most awesome chats with dad.

It was one of those chats that starts out as a simple exchange of opinions, no harm, no foul ... but by the end I've broken ... and I end up sobbing tears of frustration, hurt, and anger

Grandma's trial is coming up in less than two weeks and suddenly, the wicked witch of the East wants to tag along. All summer long the family was assured she would not be coming and now, she's decided she wants to. How fucking convenient ...

There is just no legitimate reason for this evil, insecure, gold digging piece of trash to be at my grandmother's trial. Isn't it bad enough that we all have to sit there in the courtroom and listen to the defense try to say he didn't do it? That we might even hear them try to say it was her fault? Isn't the torture of the loss enough? Why should I have to endure the salt that she is? She wants me to sit in the very same courtroom and pretend that I believe she is there to support my father? I haven't seen one ounce of genuine emotion out of that thing in the seven years I've known her - what makes today so GD different? I don't care what anyone says, I saw it with my own eyes, my grandmother did not like this tramp and now she thinks she has a right to sleep in my grandmother's bed like she owns the place?

I'm putting my foot down. I'm not sharing a house with her. I will not appease her demands. It will hurt my father, but sometimes tough love is the only thing that works.

I am done. There are no more chances. Am I going to get back the years of my relationship with my dad that she has stolen? No. And what is she going to do about the other things that no one can change? The last holiday meal I shared with my grandmother was at a shitty Italian restaurant, with no service, and no menu (what Italian restaurant doesn't have pasta with meat sauce?) because we were trying to appease the evil one and accommodate her - I can't get back that holiday and I don't get another chance. Where's the accommodation of how I feel? The last time I saw my grandmother alive was that same Christmas, in the front seat of my dad's car, because the whore was such a bitch about other people in her house that our family did Christmas in a hotel room and my dad was taking my grandmother back to his house afterward. She didn't care about any of us then and she doesn't care about any of us now. So her feigned emotion now is rather transparent ... and I'm calling bullshit.

Karma's got her number and some day, it'll come up.

So, after a night like this, I am exhausted ... and still I can't sleep

Posted by Princess Cat at November 16, 2006 12:14 AM @ 12:14 AM in I Wear These Boots For A Reason // Permalink | TrackBack