Well, I am just over half way through my second week of visiting with my parents/family and all I can say is no fucking wonder. No wonder I have been so messed up for so long. I don't even know if I can express myself right now - it is lunchtime on Saturday and I have been sick since Thursday night. Cramping/some vomiting/explosive diarea. Ask me how many times they have inquired about my well being. Come on, just ask. Nonce. Seriously, not once did my mother say "how are you feeling, darling?" "Can I help you in any way?" Go fuck yourself. Nothing. She did, however, worry about herself. She did complain about something that my young foster brother, Leonard, did. She did pour herself yet another drink. She did come into my room (I am in the spare bedroom where her computer is) to get something... didn't even look at me, lying in the bed. No wonder I have spent a lifetime of feeling worthless and invisible. No wonder I am so fucking fucked up. No wonder.
All I want to do in the whole world right now is pack my bags and take a cab to the airport. And I probably would except it's Debra's birthday tomorrow, party tonight.
