Seriously, Psycho, it's not always about you. Sometimes, no one was ever talking to you to begin with. No one was talking to you, or about you, and nothing being said had anything to do with you. Whole lives are lived without ever caring about, or knowing about, YOU.
Alright, that was low.
Being related to someone who really has no concept of life outside of themselves is frustrating. I'm never sure if I'm just chatting with my cousin or if you're reading over our shoulders ready to twist everything into some kind of personal attack. Or if you're waiting with a personal attack. And I do feel sorry for you. I'm sorry that you've never learned to be an adult, I'm sorry that you're so narcissistic. It's sad. But I'm not sorry enough to worry about you. To let you color my interactions with people.
Yes, you're going to occasionally pop up and throw a fit. You, your sisters, and your mother have been doing that for years. It's not new. It's never surprising. In fact, it's kind of old. No one cares anymore. There's a reason people just walk away from you.
Until you grow up a little, they probably always will. Most of your family is going to try and stick around. They feel guilty about the past wrongs done to you. I feel no guilt. I had nothing to do with it. I'm sorry it happened, but it's time to grow up and move on. It's been 30 years. Let it go.
Or don't. Keep living the way you're living. Keep throwing your fits. See where it gets you. Look around, see where it's gotten you so far. You get yourself into terrible situations, something bad happens, and then you lash out at other people whose lives don't suck. You know what? Some of us work really hard to make our lives good. We make the best of what we have and keep our chins up. And things have a way of working out.
'Turn your face to the sun and the shadows fall behind you.' Maori proverb
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