Interesting thing Happened Friday. While Arguing on IM with some oversensitive queer who still lives in his moms basement over some mediocre game. My brother was trying to contact me. At that time it wasn't important to me what he had to say. I was having a nice volley of Drama Text, with someone that thinks way too highly of themselves. Finally the FUN had to come to an end. So I blocked the queen in mid rant, and returned my brothers message since he was being so insistent, and spoiling my fun.
Well he was quick and to the Point. My Grandmother Had a stroke, and expired.
So I did feel somewhat bad about the situation. Being not available for my brother. They were somewhat close so I try and understand how he feels and help him out any way I could.
As for me. I hated the Bitch. Plain and Simple. Nothing changed my demeanor when I heard the news.
I think I choked up more when the Merekat 'Flower' died on that show Merekat Manor. Then again Flower died trying to protect her pups, Grandma Died on her way to the shower getting ready to make her way back to Atlantic City and Gamble away her pension.
The little time I had with this woman all I could ever see was her dark side. She was manipulative, conniving, and hurtful. She Loved to tell me what I did with flash was nothing more than a hobby. She sneered when she noticed my college diploma hung in my room. Stating who do I think I am.
She would try and get me to pay back bills just because she wanted some extra money to gamble.
even going as far as saying She never received my rent money in hopes I would pay again.
I have nothing but disdain for this woman. My hate for her left me with an insatiable need to 'Prove' Myself. I WILL MAKE IT, with this so-called HOBBY . YOU FUCKIN BITCH. I will make a fuckin difference.
and Not BECOME THE BITTER FAILURE YOU BECAME IN YOUR LIFE. I used my hate to finish school, to continue to look for work in my field, even drawing out projects when I came home from long days working at local Video Chain store and dealing with asshole customers. Every time she made an effort to make my life a bit harder,(like not paying the electricity and leaving me in a hot room in a heat wave) I worked harder at my goal. I have such a hate for this woman that the mere smell of her perfume would put me in such a pissed off mood, that all I wanted to do was nothing else but get back to work on my stories and art.
So.. Nows Shes' Dead.
And Guess what NOW YOU NEED MY FUCKIN MONEY, TO HELP BURY YOUR ASS. How Ironic.
My money, made from my "hobby" will be sponsoring the last shovel of dirt on your face.
It's almost Poetic.
Now I get back to work.. but... somethings missing. I look at the stage window in flash.
and I can't Help but feel empty inside.
What is this? Is this Sadness? Guilt? Do I feel remorse for her passing.. Hmmm I sit back and assess my feelings. categorize them, file them. Oh.. I see now. Its one Less person that didn't believe in me, one less person to hate. One less driving force. So for a whole day.
I couldn't concentrate. Was I doing all this, just to prove a few insignificant people in my life wrong?
I actually felt like Agent Smith, in that Big Brawl scene in Reloaded. I lost... purpose.. I didn't realize how many of my engines ran on hate.. There's quite a few. But if all the people I hated disappeared,would I lose my drive, because I felt no purpose?
It's hard to figure out what came first, my love for storytelling or my hate for my grandmother.
I've felt both for as long as I can remember. Running on the belief that no child is born corrupt I will have to say my love for storytelling came first. In which case, I shouldn't worry about me ever losing site of my goals.
I will say this. It is people like my Grandmother, and like that faggot in the begining of this blog that fuel me to keep going.
So Yes. Please.
Keep telling me I'm worthless. Keep Putting me down. Keep insulting my intelligence. Keep dissecting my work. Keep on with the ridicule.
It Doesn't Stop me or slow me down like you think. It keeps me going Strong.