Trips down memory lane. Gotta love them. Or better yet, avoid them altogether and save yourself the rage blackout. OMG... I cannot believe I just did that. To kate, kevin... I can't believe I sucked them into my own private hell. I thought it was buried, like so much else. Evidently not. It's jsut carefully hidden under glass floors and behind glass doors. Waiting for boxes to be moved aside and locks pried open before they can be seen and heard from again.

Kate asked me how my weekend was and I told her it had been great. And I honestly thought it had been. Until I started telling her about it. About how I was so annoyed and uptight that Matt smoked himself retarded then drove home and expected me to be alright with it; about how I'm still the "good" kid, but Seth is now the "perfect" child. I think I want couseling again. Want to know how to fuck up a kid? Make them second best. Make it blatantly obvious who the favorite is, has been and always will be- in front of them. Oh, there are much faster, quicker, easier ways of doing it- Get drunk and throw your kid through some cabinets, or get high and molest them... I'm sure there are easier ways to do it. But a really good lasting way to really fuck with your kid is by making them believe they can never be good enough. Never. No matter how hard they try, or how much they do, you will never be as proud of them as their sibling.

And by sibling, I mean the kid who fucked up everyone's lives by being a drug addict. (Oh man, i can't even imagine how jealous I sound right now. And the sad thing about it is: I -am- jealous. More horribly jealous than I ever have been in my life. Probably the only thing I have ever been truly jealous of in my life, is my brother. Fucked up, innit?)

Just imagine this scenario. My bro is my mom's favorite. I am my dad's. It's always been that way, always will be. My dad was never around when I was a kid, so you can imagine how sides went. Mom always tried to be fair, but somehow you always know who the favorite is, there's no simple way about it. So I was always second-best. I was the one who had the expensive habits, was not very social, never really fit in, over-weight, and spent more time reading then anyhting else. So I gave up on trying- whenever anyone was looking, that is.

Then Seth's "problem" came into play. And you can imagine how mom felt, now that her golden boy is no longer golden, and I am. Still Dad's gone with his new job, but now I've got a car, friends, job, and refuse to be part of this household where the only thing that goes on is comparing Seth to me- but only in the areas where I fail horribly and he succeeds. Imagine the shit that rains down.

And now... Now he's the perfect child. No longer on drugs, getting good grades, doing housechores, Whoop de frieking do! Guess what the standing is once again: Seth- Golden Boy, Abby- Good Child.

I quit. I retire, I give up. I love Mom dearly, but her crowing about "Perfect" Seth would have caused one Good Child to leave and not look back on Thanksgiving Day.

An example, jsut so I can look back and remember why I should -never- think that I am best in anything: Seth got his permit a week ago. "Oh, Seth ,you're doing so much better on the first day then Abby ever did with her permit! You're doing so well!!"
My thoughts on the matter?: Yeah... Of course he's doing better than me. He STOLE your cars and drove them around town enough. He had best be better than I was when I first started!!

Meh... What're you going to do?

Maybe that's why I was so annoyed with Matt Saturday and today. Maybe it's residual annoyance from my family. Maybe, just maybe, if had bothered to start speaking, I never would have stopped until I was dropped off at this house Saturday night and told to never come back. All I know is that if I'd had my car this morning, I never would have stayed until 12. I would have left and gone before he'd even gotten his ass out of bed. the walk on the beach cleared my head, made things clear to me that were previously hazy. And though I'm sure some of it was unnecessary, communcation breakdown is very bad when it comes to me. If you don't talk, don't talk to me.

When you see my foot twitching and hear the words, "Fine," and, "Nothing," come out of me in response to questions, they're a good indication that something is indeed wrong. He asked, but I didn't know.

Talking to Mom, I never realized that she dislikes Dad as much as she does. I never realized how "they" came about. I never realized there were so many things wrong with whatever it is I'm doing with Matt. The lack of communication, the P-word hurts (P-word, my new term for pinching, poking, prodding and anything along those lines that hurts like hell and shouldn't.), his refusal to do anything that would make me happy, the constant "You're wrong and so is anything you do," messages, and, because of all these and so much more, my abject refusal to get any pleasure out of anyhting we do, anymore. It's not fun anymore, it's work. And I shouldn't have to work at something that's supposed to be fun.

Communication can't change that. People don't change. He's not going to change. I could badger him about it up, down, and sideways. It probably won't change, and even if it did, it would only be temporary. I think I jsut talked myself into a dissolvation of whatever this ridiculous relationship is.

And then... the next time he's ridiculously sweet- meeting me at the door with a fleece blanket and tucking me into bed so I'll be nice and warm, I'll forgive him. Because I'm a sucker. Argh.

Meh... I know what to do. I jsut have to suck it up and do it. Fuck this shit, why waste your time on someone who doesn't care enough to worry about it?