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worst. christmas. ever.

my family shot underhanded comments at each other all through dinner. my grandpa, the only member of my entire family who has a decent heart and mind, was all but dying, and couldn't hold everyone together like he usually does. he's 90, and fading fast. aside from the lacerated comments, it was hard luck stories, and sadness.

what i got for christmas: a french press, a pair of used shoes, and a shower head.

i just had to cut out embedded stitches from a gaping infectious wound in my moms leg. it was unpleasant at best, for both of us, and we're both strong people.

i spent my last five dollars on a pack of cigarettes today. i am unemployed, and the job market here is almost non-existent. my step-aunt, who has her PHd, works at a hardware store, and answering phones, for ACT. if that's any indication of how hard it is to get a job here besides micky-d's.

i'm in too much legal trouble, and have to take care of sick and dying family, to risk hustling.

broke. as fuck. all'round.

my girlfriend, who's always too busy and broken to give me the attention i need, is hundreds of miles away at her parents, who hate me.

i'm spending the night again, at my moms cat piss-soaked trailer, listening to the subtle sounds of pain she makes twenty four hours a day.

i wish that i wasn't so fucking numb, and that i could cry right now.

i'm terribly sad. and lonely.

and i have to piss in a cup, at random. so i can't seek refuge in my usual chemical loves. the only solid friends i've ever had.

on the upside, i had a decent meal tonight. and my dog, mr. pants, is here with me. i love him more than i love anything in the world, and we spooned on a couch last night. that's love. and at least we got each other.