No title to this journal, but that doesn't mean that it does not mean a lot to me. You don't have to read it, especially if I've been killing your good moods lately. It's just that, I have a lot of things I want to get off my chest, and they all involve that asswipe my mom's decided to marry.


I'm sure a lot of you haven't read one of my deviations...I don't even remember what I called it...and if you did, all you seemed to have gotten out of it was that I'm dating Chris Bathgate. Whatever, that was my fault for making it seem like two happy, lovey-dovey people were being there for one another, instead of coming out and saying what needs to be said.

Here's the bottom line: I am PISSED. Absolutely, truly, and thoroughly PISSED.

And I probably wouldn't be this upset if that fucking Gary Martin would just say, and actually MEAN, from the bottom of his heart, that he was sorry. Now I don't want some huge drama from him that he'd rehearsed for months. No. I just want a simple "I'm sorry. I'm a fucking jackass." from him. THEN I'd be more willing to accept the fact that my mom wants to MARRY that freak of nature.

You see, after my grandfather died, I took a day off from school before the day of his funeral, so I could spend some time in mourning and preparing myself for the final good-bye. He'd spent like, 2 years on his deathbed, so the fact that I had come home from school to be told he had passed away didn't exactly...it didn't knock me off my feet and make me bawl my eyes out.

I should probably tell you this so you'll understand; when my grandfather died, I lost 2 people that day: one was my grandfather, the other was my best friend was a little tiny girl. My grandma still tells me about how I used to love doing everything with him. So it's not like I wasn't hurt, but more like I couldn't find a rational way to say good-bye to both of those people that I loved so dearly.

So I cried. As any normal person would, I shed tears. But that was about it. I had stuff I needed to do, and couldn't afford to become the screaming, agonized person I felt like inside.

---

About a week after the funeral, I went to dinner with my older brother, his dad, my mom, and Gary (he'd never been "Mr. Martin" to me, and he never will just like he'll never be "Dad"). It was simple enough, and I had gotten my head back on straight after the ceremony at the graveyard.

Some other things I need to tell you before I go on; only a few months prior to my grandfather's death, Gary lost his sister and I lost my aunt. So its not like we hadn't felt that sort of pain before.

Anyway, we somehow got onto the subject of my staying home the Friday before. Okay, here's where you, anyone who's reading this, get involved. Pretend you're him, and you know that my grandfather died, and suddenly you're told I took a day off, and it happened to be the day before the funeral. Now what would YOU think I did that for?

Apparently he does not have the mental capacity to figure it out. You know why? Because he looked me straight in the face and asked with this dumbfounded look: "Why did you do that?"

...It fucking felt like he had walked up to me and asked "Why the fuck would you mourn for your relative? Get the fuck on with your life you pathetic insect."

THAT was when I started bawling. THAT was when I finally broke down and just cried. So there I was, barely having touched my dinner, pouring my eyes out into my older brother's shoulder in the middle of a restaurant, and he's still dumbfounded by the fact that I had screamed "WHY DO YOU THINK!?" at him and practically spat in his face doing so.

So some manner of time had passed, I don't even know if it was ten minutes. I had started to calm down and regain my composure, and start to eat (because I really was hungry). When out of NOWHERE he looks at my mom and says to her loud enough for everyone at the table to hear "Watch, she's going to take the cheese off." At that moment all I can think is "Go on, make another disgusting remark. I dare you."

And guess what? Some people don't understand how to keep their traps shut.

"So, if I were to make macaroni and cheese with real cheese, she wouldn't touch it?"

And so I snapped...

"Gary..."
"Yeah?"
"Shut. Up."

AND then my MOTHER goes and scolds me for telling him to stop taking a fucking pickax to my heart! If I was bawling my eyes out before into my brother's shoulder, I was MELTING now. I seriously felt like I had turned to a pile of mush. I couldn't eat, I couldn't talk, I couldn't think, I could barely remember to BREATHE! I got my poor brother's sleeve sopping wet with tears! And he STILL had the nerve to be confused and bewildered!

GOD!

I wanted to go to his sister's funeral. I really did. I liked the woman. And her husband is really a funny, and nice guy. But my mom said no and that I had to stay at school. So I did. Now, I didn't expect him to pay the same honor to my aunt or even my grandfather, but I'm pretty sure a normal human being, or even one with a wire or two loose, would have felt SOMETHING for the fact that I had lost two relatives in the span of six months.

---

I guess this just means that Gary isn't a normal human being. Fuck. I'm not even sure if he can be CALLED a human being. And now my mom's going to marry him.

...Nothing against my mom, but am I the only one smelling bestiality here?