Disenfranchised

"Poor Pluto" was found here.

Nobody likes Pluto or me.

Now I have not only managed to ruin my son's little family by accidentally letting his cat out when I was coming in--10 days ago, I don't imagine she will ever be found--but I am now estranged from my family. 

I was going over to my son's apartment last night and probably should just not have done so--I was not in a good mood. I called wanting him and his father to at least do the dishes so I wouldn't have to look at that same stack of dishes.

 I got stuck in traffic near the fucking mega-church that used to be a Wal Mart...if that isn't depraved, I don't know what is. The capitol of cheez whiz commercial corporations sells one of its buildings to a cheez whiz commercial church. That place has to be about as devoid of spirituality as a septic tank. Mega church: because preaching judgment at others is really what Jesus was all about. So not. Please--kill me now. I hate this world.

So I get there to Son's place and when ex husband asks me how I am, I mutter "horrible." He should have left it alone or said "sorry to hear that" but he starts in with the Dr. Phil "what is making your day horrible?" I said "Nothing, I don't want to fucking talk about it. And couldn't someone have cleaned the counter?" Yes, probably I should not have said that. But I'm sick and tired of everyone expecting that because I have ovaries, cleaning is only my jurisdiction. 

I was just going to make fucking ham sandwiches--because that's really all there was. Ex husband said something snotty--I don't even remember what it was. I said "fuck you, I'm leaving." I went to grab my coat, a big row ensued, and he said that I came in expecting to be treated like "a spoiled little princess."

Folks, that is the worst fucking thing you could possibly say to me. I, of all people, have never in my life been treated like anything even remotely close to a "spoiled princess." I live in a house that doesn't have the ability to flush the toilet. I have to piss in a trash can on puppy piddle pads. I don't have any working appliances. I can't take a shower here. I am constantly developing skin infections because I don't have the ability to shower more than once a week. I live on Yoo Hoo, dried fruit, and chocolate. They don't have to be refrigerated. I feel like shit about 1000 percent of the time. I don't even fucking like champagne or caviar and I could give a flying shit less about designer labels. I hate to shop. I hate when men try to buy me drinks because I know it means they think they're going to get some pussy. Hint...they aren't. And then they get pissy because they don't.

So...spoiled princess. That really triggered it. I threw my fucking keys at the bastard's head.

I can never forgive him for those filthy words. If he had called me a bitch, an asshole, a cunt, even if he had accused me of fucking every man in Colorado that I wasn't related to, I could forgive that a lot sooner than those words. Why not just call me a Kim Kardashian wannabe to put the icing on the cake. Seriously, Sir, FUCK YOU!

He left for a time, ostensibly to go look for the cat. Who the fuck knows or cares what he did. 

Then my son springs on me that the whole last semester when I thought things were going great and he appreciated that I was helping him out that instead he thought I was grouchy most of the time. 

Fine--I can't win.

I no longer have a family.

And I don't have any friends either.

I cut myself for the first time in more than five years.

I will be cutting from now on.

I have a few things to finish up and then I am done.

No offense to anyone who is a believer, but I don't believe in God so don't pull the old "it's a sin to commit suicide" card. I'm not trying to be some sort of acerbic "smartier than thou" atheist. I'm not really an atheist either. I know that something happens to the energy that might be called the "soul" after we die, but I don't know what it is. All I know is that I don't believe the stuff I was taught as a child. I hope you're right that there is some sort of afterlife, if you are a believer. But I hope that you're wrong about it being under the jurisdiction of some sort of egotistical, judgmental high school principal figure. Because that is how I see the Church God.

I guess I still liked the Christmas holiday because it was such a great thing when I was a child. Up until this year--because this is the year that I lost everything. I hate Christmas. I wish I could go back into the past and kick that stupid little credulous turd that I was when I was ten years old, spit in her face, tell her that her beliefs were a lie and that one day her father would be a sick, demented old man and then he would be dead. I would tell her that Christmas was a lie. Why? Because I want the stupid little bitch to stop lying to me from the past. I just want to kick her straight in her ugly buck teeth! I hate her!

All I want for Christmas is a sharp knife, a shotgun, and a couple of shells.

Sayonara.