i've been listening to music again. sober. i probably shouldn't do much of anything sober.

it washed over me in a drunken tide, that i am most vulnerable through my writing. some people just write. some people even go so far as to write what happens to them. no, me, a part of me what i feel is right here. if you can't tell, you're better off.

it occurs to me that you won't see the worst parts of me, or even what i feel to be the most vital. not face to face. not unless you're that good. and those people are hard to come by.

but it's all right here. if you're capable of defining me by this.

i discover that along with my mother not wanting me, she wanted neither of my sisters. someone talked her out of abortion three times. i discovered about me through letters from my father. letters he wrote her years ago. it was last year i saw them.

now, as i suspected, it was the same with my two sisters, both younger than me. i hoped if that were the case, they'd not find out. they were still living with her then. they're both out now, living in separate place.

the worst part is not knowing this truth. i couldn't care less now. it hurt when i first realized it. but not because of the truth. because my womb donor bitches, complains, rants, whines, cries and accuses to her pathetic therapists how rotten we all are. how we abandoned her and left her and walked out on her and we were so rotten to her. get a *fucking* clue. either you wanted us, or you didn't. it's all a show. *we* know, but to her therapists it makes her seem all the more victimized. we were rotten evil children who did nothing but evil things to her. we never appreciated one goddamned thing she did and that we've gone astray from her plastic dreams is none of her doing. that my slightly autistic sister may have actual cause for feelings of abandonment because everyone got the hell out as soon as they could, and all she had left was that haggard old ugly bitch is not her fault, she says. that my academically inclined other sister was the best natured of all of us, more forgiving and more willing to put up with the bullshit until she finally realized there was no end and then was tired of being mind fucked every day and left is not the bitch's fault. that i was tired of hearing her argue day in and out, and be inconsistent and manipulative while accusing us of those same things, demanding that we wait on her hand and foot and accusing us of being pigs because we didn't do her dishes, rarely if ever speaking an honest word, making herself out to be some victim so she would have attention and sympathy when she was in fact a fucking troll so *i* got my shit together a little precariously and left for good is not her fault.

she beat us. me she beat when i was four years old into unconciousness. i remember. i can drudge up that memory with little effort because it coincided with a story she used to tell with pride wherein she was a hero. when i confronted her with it, she denied it and claimed she had no memory of it. that she remembered it differently than i did. and this was all based on some idiot shrink telling her (separately during family counseling) that she has multiple personalities. she doesn't. but because she was informed of this, she took the time to look into enough to bone up on the symptoms so she knows how she should act to perpetuate this false idea. now she has fits and behaves like in an erratic and childish manner. tantrums for stupid reasons. yet at the same time clinging to her minor daughters to hold her up, and support her and let her drag them down with her and getting support and encouragement from her fucking friends to continue doing so.

what the hell kind of person does that? who would tell a person like that that it is perfectly okay and acceptable to depend on your high school and junior high aged daughters to wipe your ass and take care of you because you refuse to take care of yourself? that doesn't help, or heal. it creates more of an excuse to sit there on your ass and be "sick".

and yet, it goes on and on and on like that. and somehow she gets away with it. the cops called to the apartment repeatedly and they don't find a reason to take my sisters out for good. they've been told. by my sisters and me and other people.

i hope for god's sake that he is not that stupid or forgiving. else i might have to pay a visit from my resting place and there'll be one less deity, regardless of what becomes of me.