🛞🐉 Dragonfish Day! 🛞🐉 10 September 2023 🌘🌚 Blue Corn Moon 🌽💠 354 Fructidor CCXXXI 🍇 9948 ⛩️

Coffee

Goodwill

Dinner

Celebrate

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Got this message:

“I haven't asked much about your family, because I know that's a challenging part of your life right now. And if you still don't want to talk about them, that's still okay. But I wanted to say, in case it provides a useful perspective: I think they love you very much. When they chose to have a son, and chose to raise you, they were also deciding to support you in times of need. I haven't spoken with them in years, but some six months back I received a voice message from your mother asking about you. She was just wanting to know if her son was alright. I had meant to call her back and tell her that, as far as I knew, you were living a life that you were satisfied with. (This had been before we'd started talking on the phone more often.) But like many small things in life, that slipped through the cracks of the many other moving parts of my life, and I hadn't thought of it again until recently.”

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Years ago, two maybe, when i told my godfather about the abuse at my home growing up, he covered for my father and has tried to hamper my escape from them, declaimed me to exercise that most critical of legitimizing rituals on behalf of power: stop talking about all the suffering being made to go on all the time.

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I'm very mad.

I feel hurt.

I feel my enemies conspire against me.

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No, you haven't spoken to them. i have. it sounds like you're very lucky. your family chose to support you, chooses to support you.

But my father was a cruel man, has grown crueller. He is not interested in supporting. He is interested in controlling, owning, disciplining.

He's leaned hard into the techno-fascistic social planning of the Nurvaux Rixch. He turned his back on financial support during the Pandemic, never could forgive me for going mad.

He had me as a compromise, it was either raise children with my mother or break up so she could find someone who would agree to children.

A much disavowed compromise, in my house, one i was made to have rubbed in my nose.

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Elsewhere you urge that I believe you would like to give me some other form of help, if i can think of any, other than anything monitarily, such as making me a spreadsheet of jobs to apply to.

I am grieving. My world has been torn open. So many times, and ongoing.

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My parents have me a copy of Gordon Ramsey’s fascistic clap. i think it was the last thing they gave me.

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