Nobody left to talk to

I was raised by sick bastards. I could go into a bunch of psychobabble about it, but when 3 out of 4 adults in an extended family think nothing of abusing the minor children physically, emotionally, sexually, and financially, and the remaining 25% see and hear it happening right under their noses and they act like nothing happened, to the point of blaming the minor children for the whole thing when they become adults...sick bastards. Sometimes plain English covers it just fine.

Needless to say you don't come out of a family like that and magically become a normal, happy, healthy adult. You don't know what love is when you come from a background like that. You end up looking for people who seem totally different from the abusers, and most of the time when you think you have found someone who gives a shit for real, you find out that was a fucking act to reel you in. If you can find three real friends in all the world coming from this background you've basically experienced a miracle.

Well, yet another friend turned out to be a vicious, feckless shit today. Apparently there's no time limit on how long these shits can fake you out; I thought it was bad when I found out what somebody was really all about after twelve years but this time it took fifteen. This isn't some momentary blow up; I mean I found out this fuck had been screwing me over behind my back practically the whole damn time we've known each other.

Another one of my friends, one of two people who have gone longer than seven years without stabbing me in the back somehow, is now terminally ill - headed for quadriplegia and then the grave.

And the other record holder is just plain busy right now and doesn't have time for me. It's for legit reasons, I totally get it, everybody's got a life, the timing is just really rough.

This has gotten to be one very lonely life.

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anonymous Other February 28, 2020 at 10:46 pm 2 0