I had meant to write about this the day it happened, and I could go back through my messages to Dawn and pinpoint the day but I can’t be arsed for some reason — but I finally, more than two years after I left, drove past Matt’s old house (“the red house,” Thea used to call it), and from the opposite direction to the one I went in when I left. There was a large gold-colored pickup truck pointed the wrong way on the parking pad and half-parked in the front yard, and the garage was open in the back. First time since 2009 that thing’s actually been empty. It was very strange to see. But good, too.
I don’t know if I mentioned it here but after my initial anger and grief at Matt’s bullshit of pulling up roots and leaving the state with my daughter without telling me (I had to hear it from alternative sources), I thought about it some more, and I realized that my only sadness is at my daughter being gone. Otherwise, it’s basically a huge relief, like lancing a boil. Like there was this great festering sore in the middle of my mind-map of this area because I knew it would hurt to drive past and see them there and that, if she saw me pass, she would probably be upset too — not at missing me, but at being reminded I’m around. That’s gone. I can drive past there now and it’s okay.
This has changed my delivery patterns too, somewhat. I still avoid the University Area (actual name of neighborhood) and the south side like the plague, because the former has no good parking to speak of and the latter is nothing but bad roads and bad drivers. Downtown is Right Out too. But I’ve expanded a little bit and have been a bit more willing to let the app lead me around where it will, to a certain extent. I still don’t want to take ridiculous trips for next to nothing, but thanks to my new approach I made $18 on a pizza run yesterday. Just the one run. Not a twofer. Not even on the weekend. Liked it.
I’m only now realizing I have less rage. Weird. I can’t count on it not coming back, but it was already diminishing and now it’s dropped a whole lot again.
I might actually be okay. At least in that sense. Eventually.
I set up a GoFundMe to maybe help with this last month’s rent. I won’t link to it. If you’re that fucking curious you can go search me there; I’m sure I’ll come up. I realize this is a shitty tone to take when I’m hoping for help, but so far this year most “help” has come from people trying to make themselves look good and you can’t base it on that. You have to base it on meeting the person’s actual needs. I’m lucky I got anywhere at all; even where things were successful it was often because I took alternative steps under my own initiative. I can’t fault that, even if it’s patting myself on the back, but one wonders what all the fucking charities are for. The things I saw. I still need to write about that. In the meantime, if I don’t simper enough for you, pass me on by. I have a plan B if this doesn’t work.
The doctor has flat out told Dad that if he drinks again it will kill him.
I have a feeling he doesn’t give a sweet shit.
I don’t have an opinion about it either way. I can’t see us reconciling at this point. I have resigned myself to being the family asshole that everyone’s going to talk shit about for generations if they even remember I existed at all. They won’t, of course. I mention these possibilities only to show that I am aware of them. Everything that I’ve been through that I could have been spared had people simply stopped kicking me out the door (or, more recently, making me want to leave) and stopped being mean to me and actually started getting to know me, and I’ve lost count now, and I can’t measure, and I’m just tired of thinking about it. I made this mess, but I had no foundation to do anything else. Thanks? So backstab if it makes you feel better. It’s in character for you. Hate to see you start acting abnormally. Dementia’s a bitch.
I’m getting ranty and need to go to bed. The point, with the previous, is that in a lot of these situations I get pulled up for… basically nothing. I keep to myself, I don’t go engage people about anything, I go along my merry little way and the first time an issue comes up and I react to it, suddenly I’m a monster. I mean okay, I kept to myself and you don’t have enough experience with me, but guess who also never approached me to make the first move. Do you not understand what an introvert is? I’m easy, too. Just say hi and start a fucking conversation. I can pick it up from there and we can go back and forth. You know, like normal people? Make that investment. I cannot be the one making the first fucking move all the time and I am tired of people expecting it. If you don’t say hi to me I assume you are not interested. If you are someone who ought to be interested and you are making no moves, I am going to take a little bit of offense at that. I’m human. I am not a mind-reader. Stop making me fucking guess. And don’t expect me to act like you, because I don’t live among you. We should have some of the larger things in common, but that’s about as far as you can take it as far as expectations go. Point is, I ain’t done shit and you’re mad. I could literally tell you my entire life situation and you’d still be mad because something something bad decision something twenty years ago. So? This isn’t twenty years ago. Catch the fuck up.
Nope. Well then. Make your own choices and I’ll make mine.
And if you’re a new person and think I’ll bite your head off? Again, as I said… Treat me like just folks. But if you don’t approach, I assume you don’t care. It beats wasting energy chasing people. You always get those assholes who like the attention and who will accept yours even though they hold you in contempt. I hate that, and I’m not setting myself up for it. Too much time and energy wasted getting back to baseline after the massive disappointment hits me. No thank you.
Okay, bed for real now. GOD. Ni ni. zzzzzzzzz