So in this recentness, my mother went to Vegas. I thought, "Cool." My father will be drunk an entire week, it'll almost feel like I have the house without them in it. So on memorial day my father gets really sloshed and approaches me about how fucked the world is. He's been on Infowars and listening to Jesse Ventura and all that stuff, I get it, there are bits of information to take in from whoever. But he starts to get himself depressed about it and dwell on it to the point of where he envelopes his own drunkenly demise... "Without you two, we have nothing... Wow, I can't believe I just said that. *Starts to tear up* J-just giv-give me a moment." *Sniffles*
I felt a strange sense of, "Who is we?" Because recently last fall he was responsible for operating the log splitter that took my younger brother's main hand index finger. In addition to the years he wasted on being an alcoholic bully to others and himself, he's also responsible for my disdain of tobacco smoke in my area. It's just constant cigs being burned when he's awake, my mother struggles to enjoy them and I see it on her face. Countless times I've peered into the office room and seen her burn it like it's hand incense.
Recently I took a day off work. I'm in the kitchen and my mother notices, I'm already preparing in my head what she's going to ask me about. She's going to find out I'm hanging out with some female today. When she riddles me with more questions about the day I was hanging with someone she starts to hug me after I answered one of her questions.
"Is it a boy or a girl?"
I've never felt her hug me like this before... She placed her warmth right up on my leg, I'm already distant from her enough. My father tried to tell me that he knew me and that he was upset that I didn't know him. (He being drunk 85% of the time) "It truly bothers me." Well fuck dad, I didn't bother to make a list. My mother, whenever she talks to me I know she's doing it to try and peer into my boxed life from them. Why take the time to try and fake a conversation with me about food you think is my favorite? I'm tired of running this delusion of family with her, she treats me as if I haven't aged since I was a kid. Even if I was a "mature" child as the adults I'd meet would always say, I was self obligated to operate myself in every aspect of my life. My parents just brought me here and spent most of their loving hours when their children were in diapers. Even then I think of my dad handling me with a cig in his hand. Might explain why I have an asthmatic condition these days.
My parents don't even know I'm bi, (But clearly there is suspicion of me being gay.) They've offered me no real guidance in life other than providing me with a sense of eating etiquette and their genetics. What upsets me most is how their relationship continued to be the same after my father did what he did to my brother. The both of them sat in the ER speechless about it, provided the harshest sympathy to where it hurts to have the wrong person try and say something "right" from their perspective.
I'm tired of living in toxic environments, I'm not the only person who feels the way I do. Plenty of others have worse/less worse in ways, but worse in others/etc. The more I feel like I'm finding another home the more I want to be abrasive about how I feel.
I just don't understand the logic in which some people bring children into this world. It's cool I guess, I get to ride the gravy train of living in the house until my mother retires and retreats to Tijuana or some shit and abandons us to whatever. I'm okay with this, I just hate how she expects me to feel like I owe her a happy conversation.
My parents both have their own sad stories, their own parent problems. If I have kids, does this keep continuing?
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