Don’t I count?

I don’t feel like I matter much to my family.  I don’t mean my wife, kids, and grandkids.  I feel like I matter to them.  I’m talking about the family I had before them….my mother, brother, and sister, especially.

Today, I asked Mama for a little help getting something to drink in the house.  She said Wayne is bringing her in, so she can’t help.  Then, she must have felt guilty, because she started offering things from her own house.  By that point, I was already depressed, because, once again, he trumped us.  I declined anything she offered, from that point on.  

The other day, I was really upset….what the fuck else is new?….and I accidentally made Mama cry.  Well, I heard from my brother about that.  At one point in our conversation, he told me, "I don’t care if Mom tells you you’re a piece of shit.  You take it and keep quiet.  Don’t make her cry again."

Ok, so it’s okay to insult me up one side and down the other?  Well, you know what?  All this is leading me to the conclusion that I do not need to be here anymore, in Corsicana.  If I’m so fucking dispensable, only important when I’m needed for something, then I don’t feel like I need to be here.  

Herman Forstmann

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