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My mom was an heiress, I'm sure I've told you. She unfortunately had a father who died way too soon (before 65) but she not only got a lot of money from his death but she also got him loving her by giving her all the money she had paid him back from the loan he gave her fucking loser husband - my father. To me, that's the most loving story I've ever heard - he didn't even care about the money - he just saved it for her and gave it to her at the end.
I'm a bit bitter because we got stoned on my brother's old pot and she said to me "tomorrow, let's go to the bank and let me put you on the savings account your stepfather doesn't know about. he keeps saying if he dies after me, he's going to cut my children out of the will."
that never happened. she decided not to do it the next day.
I understand. it's the same as my father. he too was older and was cared for by a younger person and left my brother, sister, and I jack shit.
but, it's not that it doesn't hurt. and it's not that it feels quite fair. when you're old and afraid of dying, I assume you'll do whatever it takes to feel like someone will take care of you. that's the part I understand.
I can't help but feel rejected.
last night, I wrote suicide notes in my head again to all the people I love who will never think about me except in passing "that wacky weirdo". sure it hurt, but whatever . tonight, I didn't want to live that life again, so I took myself out on a date.
never go to downtown macon on a Monday. everything is closed.
lesson learned.
my "fave" part of my mom was when I said I felt like a loser, she replied "sometimes you're not"...
I mean I suppose it's the truth but ouch.
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