Tom got back early Sunday morning, and that night we'd gone out to dinner at the Portland Brewery. Mom and I talked about relationships and dealing. I value conversations like that, even if I'm sure the roast beef gave me food poisoning.
Earlier in the week Dad had said something during a fight that struck a nerve.
"I don't expect as much of you because of your disease."
What the Hell sort of thing is that to say to any sufferer of any sort of illness? It's not an excuse and I have never used it as one. What an awful thing to say to a daughter who has, in these last years of her life, been through more grief than you've experienced in your entire half a century on this planet. I do more with a chronic illness than most of my peers do without. I want his support, not pity. Ridiculous.
I watched Memento. Great movie. Excellent cinematography. Awful ending. Or beginning, depending. Watch it with a group of friends and see who figures it out first. This weekend I'm going to watch it backwards ("Otnemem") - or forwards, I guess.
Do you ever just want to say things? Things that you've never said because you know they're not meant to be heard, but things that are true nonetheless? Ugh. I've got such a headfull of these that I just want to scream. I've got to get them out there, one way or another. I'm going to write them down, at the very least.
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pwnie) wrote,
confused
