i got nothin’.

i’m just… drained. i would say i’m numb, but that couldn’t be true if i feel this low.

i haven’t cried since i heard the news. i am now, but for all the wrong reasons. it has always served as a source of frustration that if i am angry enough, it overflows into tears. i understand that my body needs a release for intense emotion, and on a normal day i can take comfort in the fact that there are far more destructive ways to deal with anger. on a normal day, i am proud of self-control. today, i’d rather have just swung my fists.

it started last night as puzzlement. turned into disbelief. by the end of the night i was agitated and brooding. today it bloomed into full-fledged anger. she stole my grandfather’s funeral from me. she took the time that was supposed to be devoted to his memory, to saying goodbye, and made it about her. she had no right. she had no place. she robbed me, she robbed my father, and most importantly, she robbed my grandmother. she placed upon my already grieving grandmother the additional burden of being put in the middle, used as a prop. and i am so fucking angry. i’m not the type to feel victimized, and i’m not sure that’s the proper word for what went on here… but i feel like something was taken from me, and it makes me feel that i betrayed my grandfather in some way. she was calculating, she knew what she was doing, and she didn’t care. and i couldn’t help it. i couldn’t do anything. it brings enough tension to discuss her in the context of the family. needless to say, her physical presence only heightened the feeling. she said nothing to me. she didn’t have to. she threw a silent scene, and said all she needed to say in her actions. the fucking gall of this woman. she intruded. she crossed into forbidden territory and tried to mark it as her own. and i’ve just realized that i’ve only been describing this in the abstract, but metaphors are the only tools i have. i could never explain it. you’d have to feel it. i… the rest of the family did nothing. they were polite; she was tolerated. but she shouldn’t have been. we’re their blood. the appropriate loyalties are clearly defined. and they fucked up.

and here is where this has gone in my mind: my grandfather’s death naturally brings up the approach of my grandmother’s. i began to think about it soon after he was gone. for some strange reason, i was fine with his death. i looked at his body and was not distraught. i could smile thinking about him. maybe the reason is not so strange, though. i took those cues from my grandmother. she allowed me to be at peace with it. when she goes, i’m not going to be happy. it’s going to fuck me up, and i’m not going to have any reason to hold back. her presence is the only thing that kept me from opening my mouth this time around, and when she’s gone, it’s on. i will not allow anybody to take that time away from me by taking the focus away from her. i am quite protective of the people i love, and i will do what it takes to insulate that experience. with that in mind, i’d rather it be nipped in the bud. god willing, it will be years before this becomes an issue. in the meantime, i’m going to use my aunt as a broker to the rest of the family. she’s the only one that actually knows at least some of the truth about the past, and she cares about me. if i tell her in no uncertain terms how this made me feel, the message will get passed along. whether anyone will listen… i have a feeling that it will not be long before this entire thing comes to a head. when it does, it will not be pretty, but those who are still with me when the dust settles will be the only ones worth my time.

what a fucking mess. what a fucking mess. what a fucking mess. i’m writing about my anger, and not about what i should be. this isn’t right. none of it is right. i needed to yell today. sometimes i wish i didn’t care.