This Doesn't Happen to Normal People

But what DOES happen to normal people? Email: iamthecoloursapphire@yahoo.com

Saturday, July 12, 2003

So I've been contemplating my reasons for fucking a married man. Because I fucking hate his wife. Because I fucking hate my sister. Because I hate my mother and anyone else who ever got married because they thought they were in love. Or because they were. Because I don't have that. I have a child. *I* get the challenge of raising the antichrist and instilling in her MY warped world view. But I don't have a husband. Not a real one, at any rate. So I strike a backhanded blow at the whole institution of marriage by a) marrying my husband and b) fucking a guy with a wife. I hope they all rot in hell.
Speaking of my sister and why she should rot in hell, she's been more than cruel to me this weekend. We went to see some of my family-who, in general, hate me-and she spent the whole time putting me down. Not just her usual playful mocking, though she tried to pass it off for that. But something deeper, something that tells me she's really upset with me for something. Probably the way I choose to live, choose to believe in FireOpal (and the goddamned Easter Bunny, as far as she's concerned), and choose to be...well, not HER. I don't even know. It might even be that she's pissed at the money situation. Because she and her husband are spenders and having to help me out means they can't do as much of that. Which isn't true anyway. They DO do as much of that, then they tell me that I have ten bucks to get groceries for the whole month. Maybe it's not THAT bad, and I don't have a right to tell them how to spend THEIR money, but hell. If Stormy really wants to get up in arms about it, she owes me eleven hundred dollars. She could consider this paying me back for that shit. *I* don't want to turn it into that. I think it's ridiculous. We're sisters, we help each other out. Period, the end. And we don't resent each other for it. She didn't NEED the money when I had it, but she wanted it and I didn't mind. *I* NEED the money. And she fucking minds. This whole situation is messed up bullshit. She tells me what to do, where to live, and how, and then she gets pissy and upset when I DO it. ALL of this for HER. Always for her. Fuck this shit. Fuck it right in the ear.
âîñêðåñåíüå, ïîíåäåëüíèê, âòîðíèê, ñðåäà, ÷åòâåðã, ïÿòíèöà, ñóááîòà - words in a copiable cyrilic font. AKA, days of the week in Russian. Which I can read. WooHoo!
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