Cheers, Facebook. Thank you ever so much for logging me out at the end of a very long post I was in the middle of writing. An excellent topper to an utterly horrible day. Im so tired that I can only barely recall what I even wrote. Ill give it a shot, but itll be far shorter and less eloquent than what I was originally posting. For the first time in a long while, I was ready to give up. I had thought about my plans and Id picked one I thought would work. I was going to carry it out tomorrow, and that would be that. But I realized something while I was sitting here, physical exhaustion catching up to mental exhaustion. Dying means that my mother would win. Dying would mean giving her the satisfaction of knowing that she beat me. Ill openly call myself a lot of things. Mostly, Im a stubborn asshole, and as long as a single bit of hatred towards her can still find its way to the surface, Ill refuse to give her that victory over me. I will not let her stick me in the ground, with the wrong name on my grave marker. The worst thing I can do to her is to keep living, because that means I can keep making her life as miserable as she makes mine. That sounds like it was about all Id said, condensed down slightly. Ill keep going, if only because my hatred for my mother is stronger than my desire to die. If thats what Im using as fuel now, then I dont have to worry. Theres more than enough to carry me for a long time.
Posted on: Mon, 26 Jan 2015 07:08:23 +0000
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