originally posted on July 7, 2009
I was ready to relocate out of state when my shape-shifter Dad told me he had cancer and was about to undergo treatment. I wondered if this was his hypochondriac self trying to manipulate me or if this was serious and I should reconsider relocating because, if he died soon, I would have a more difficult time getting back to help settle his affairs.
I was a bit confused as to what to do about it. I called my sister the Haman-lunatic, you know the one we should have killed sometime after 1996, but certainly by 2004, to get some information out of her. You can sometimes glean some truth from her when she isn’t twisting people’s words and stabbing everyone in the back. I had not had a conversation with her in a very long time. I did my part; the killers were supposed to do their part.
She seemed calm and lucid at the time. This is not unusual, only when confronted with the truth does she really go insane. She did confirm that my Dad does expose himself occasionally, which depending on your perspective is fine or terrible, and that she noticed the lump or lumps. She also told me he had recently had an expensive party for his “spouse” and their friends at the Four Seasons Hotel that was rather expensive. I would not think it appropriate to quote the dollar figure she gave me.
I mentioned to her some of the things that have happened to me since we last had a decent conversation. The sad parts: falling on the bike path in 2006 and separating my ribs, people shooting at me, details about the curse of Nicole, Lyme disease, and the drug resistant staph infection, and how no one has helped unless it was part of their official job description. I also mentioned I have been homeless since October 2007 and have been living in my car since January.
She reacts by blaming my Dad for not telling her these things and that he is a monster and yells at her a lot. I mention to her I did not want her around because I still have some issues with her (talk about understatement!) but going into them at that time would not help and my cell phone is running low on electricity. This conversation was just about is my Dad sick or not. Notice how my family cannot even be bothered to help me.
So why should you?
It crossed my mind how much money Xtina has, how many parties she has thrown or attended, and why she is unable to help out the father of her child. I tell other people that I am the father and the handshakes I receive when they know I am telling the truth are somewhat gratifying but it doesn’t help me off the street.
|This is what it is like, still. People listen but cannot help much.|
It seems you really didn’t want me at all. That is what I can tell by the way you act.