No More Chemtrails Pt. 2 – What’s Family Good For?

“Family, what is it good for?”

Is what I find myself asking after being forced to wake up by sounds of death and depression produced by the void of my youngest relative’s heart made of stone with malic acid for tears.

For starters, disappointed I am in myself for still living under the roof of a Mother’s home where sobriety is not welcomed. But, regardless of my own follies leading me into this position, what’s most bothersome is living around someone who’s been harassing me, intentionally, for the last eight years of my life.

I mean, we’re talking about an individual who was dumb enough to place a plastic pot on top of a hot plate, eventually melting it’s bottom without realizing it until I had arrived home that evening. This is also an individual who tried mopping an entire floor of filth with nothing but water in the bucket, not a spec of soap detected within his own “pool” of false realities. Definitely not the brightest individual whatsoever all while acting as if he’s as intelligent as it gets.

But, for a person who considers himself brighter than our gleaming Sun, he keeps his days as dark as he can make it. So, so, so smart, yet has no knowledge on how to pick up a broom stick to sweep away the garbage he hordes like the animal he made himself to be. So, so, so smart, yet cannot swipe off garbage from a putrid bed He’s gladly tossing and turning on. Kind of reminds you of pigs themselves. Pigs are intelligent when push comes to shove, but after all, they love rolling in mud before and after a hearty meal.

And, believe it or not, this endless vexation by swine has been on-going for the last eight years and I’m sick and tired of it. I’m sick of being forced to wake up early morning by a TV on max volume playing one of his recordings making fun of my life in its entirety thus far. I’m sick of this pill-popping, K2-smoking cave man who would step out of his room, light a cigarette and blow smoke directly into my room knowing how much of a disdain I have for cigs (I really, really hate cigarettes, useless). I’m tired of a certified loser stalking everyone of my moves rather than paying attention to potential consequences he may face while using me as an excuse for his failure…

I’m not perfect, folks. I’ve spent many mornings where I’ve had tantrums, ranting from the top of my lungs saying the worse of the worse toward my family. But, as many rants as I’ve had about these on-going issues, none of it amounts to the kind of deceitful monster my younger brother became. From taking my problems and pretending they’re his to gain sympathy from others and our father, to destroying antique relics and other mementos kept by my grandmother, passed down to her many daughters. From assaulting me, lying to the police just to make me sit in jail (twice), to breaking down his own door just to complain about the excess noise he forced himself to listen to at that point. None of my rants amount to the kind of actions he’s displayed just to get my attention for a conversation to be had. But, of course, how can a conversation be had when someone’s true main objective is to ridicule while trying to force me to admit that I’m a buffoon? Impossible it is to communicate peace to someone who wants none of it…

Nonetheless, I digress. Just, stories for another day. But, one thing’s for sure. No longer can I keep my family problems to myself. This is only the beginning to a story I know God will put to an end, eventually.

With faith…