People never cease to surprise me at the levels of the cruelty they are willing to immerse themselves into to show you just what a piece of shit they think you are. I battle people all the time on healthcare rights and even basic things like, don't tell me what to do with my body. As I have mentioned before, I am totally fucking alone right now. And I mean it. I am without much in terms of human contact but by voice 7 days a week for the next 6 months or so.
This week was definitely challenging as it was the week I realized people will actually laugh at the fact that I will definitely kill myself if my healthcare is rescinded, over burden someone else with responsibilities that lie outside the realms of decency. I will not burden someone to carry the bills that are inevitable if I stroke out and I do hope to die immediately if so, as my wit is all I fucking have most of the time.
This week I got a speeding ticket where the officer told me that it was perfectly legal to talk on the phone and drive. I ...
I have no idea why I went looking for mortality rates for people with the defective gene I have, but I did. And I already seem to have beaten the mean age of death (think it's 36). Now, I am always the person up for a challenge, the person trying to prove people wrong, the person seeking facts to support my viewpoint. I constantly comment on social media articles with links to other articles to support my assertions, but something about seeing that number written down kind of fucked me up. I mean, JESUS of COURSE I am dying young, but it's literally only over the past few weeks where I see the light for the life, and I feel a slight bewildered and yes, a tiny bit hopeless seeing those numbers on paper. It's like, shit....I am most assuredly winding down and my opportunities to get what I thought life would be able to lend me are definitely slipping through my fingers.
I am not giving up, no, but with the information out there, I am an anomaly already with the sheer number of dissections and strokes I have survived. And the brain is where I have ...
You know, it's been pretty damn hard for me to rationalize the great betrayal that happened a few years ago now. To get legitimately thrown away and ignored was not a thing that was easy for me to stomach and I have had wavering feelings of forgiveness and hate which have kept me steady in my vision to really get the hell out of here and leave that chapter for good. I suppose I should thank my birth mother for the snappy sendoff. Granted there might have been less painful ways to do it, I dunno, a fucking conversation might have been less caustic to my general well-being and development, and easier to forgive. But, you can't do much aside from control your own reactions to shit. And I have been honest-to-god better trusting who has not broken that trust. That being Don, and really my birth father. He's actually a really excellent person who has been there for us when we were really fucked, and ultimately has been our saving grace when literally everyone else was basically telling us to burn in hell.
Granted, he's told me he's often terrible with emotional support, but that's Don's realm. and ...
