This may be the coldest post I’ve written on this blog, so if dark thoughts or stoic feelings are disturbing to you, please read no further.
I’ve spoken so much about my family before, but now, one family member has thinned out my patience. Despite how frustrated as I often get, I didn’t think I could I didn’t think I could feel this way about anyone. But I am not lying or exaggerating when I sincerely look forward to his death.
There. I said it.
It’s not because he’d actually be dead. It’s because I know for certain he’d be gone and away from me for all eternity. Although, if he left and never returned, I’d feel the same joy. Regardless, the point is simple: I hate him.
There is no way I can explain myself without sounding “not so bad”, but this comes from years of waiting while trying to improve things and my patience finally breaking yesterday.
A quote from him: “Hopefully, I scared her little ass.”
Sadly for him, not only am I unafraid of him, I no longer have any consideration for him. I have no care for his feelings, his opinions, or any words he says. There will be no more compromise. Really, there never should’ve been because I was always the one making it.
The matter that resulted in this conflict was my job. He doesn’t like I’m committed to my job or how much I value it. The simplest way to put it is he believes my life should revolve around what he wants, and me being committed to a job I care about is not what he wants. Thankfully, I am my job’s employee and he is not, so his wants and feelings on my work are entirely irrelevant.
What’s also interesting is before I left for work, he tried to threaten me with not picking me up after work. The problem here is I didn’t ask him. I have never asked him to drop me off or pick me up. It seems that empty threat came from the bad weather that was predicted to happen (and did happen) in the afternoon. I assume he either forgot having a job allows me money to pay for public transportation or he didn’t believe I’d be audacious enough to endure the non-dangerous cold to get to and from work (really, it wasn’t that cold). So, he tries to give me an ultimatum and when I blow it off, he tries to frighten me, which also fails.
I have never been one for “I know you are, but what am I” (not since my early adolescence anyway), but I’m beginning to think he is afraid and trying to make me afraid. I’ve made it evident nothing will keep me from my job. On top of that, he’s trying to keep me away from a place where I’m treated very well and maturely. I’m becoming convinced he’s afraid of one of two things: I will eventually leave, which I know he doesn’t want, or he won’t be able to keep me in check anymore.
As much as my curiosity is piqued to know what’s going on inside his head, I’m not curious enough to care to find out. I don’t care about his fears. I don’t care about him. He is, as my title says, dead to me. Even my other relatives agree he is unintelligent (the nicest word I can use), and apparently, it’s nothing new, as they dealt with this from during 80s when they were my age. They no longer have any care for what he says or thinks either. They only deal with him because he can’t do some things for himself (in other words, family obligation). I will admit they have more regard than me in that matter because I’ve lost even that small bit of sympathy I had for him.
I don’t care which way he leaves my life, but whenever that time comes, I will rejoice. I will not miss him, and if it’s through his death, I will not mourn for him nor will I attend any funeral for him. He is dead to me and I will not refer to him any longer as family except to make categorization easier.
“The problem with the world is that the intelligent people are full of doubts, while the stupid ones are full of confidence.” – Charles Bukowski