Fuck.

No one's life is always composed of the cards they pray for.  But you use the cards you're dealt, or fold.

Apparently, when you chose NOT to fold, and keep on truckin through what's been a bunch of bad hands, all in the same game...  The only thing you'll get is reflections upon how shitty SOMEONE ELSE'S cards were before YOURS were dealt.

Or how much better they are at the game than you are.

Or sometimes, even complaints that you started playing the game in the first place.

Very, VERY recently ago, I was told by someone whom I would have given BODY PARTS for if it were needed to save her life, how great it was that no matter the time, the distance, the topic, the setting... that we could always just be "US" together, and it never mattered.

But apparently, I should have torn my cards to shreds long ago.

Because my "issues" aren't BIG enough, or some shit like that.
Because my life is comprised of one step forward, three steps back.
Because, HELL, it's nice to know that SOMEONE out there has got your back every ONCE in a while.

But, FUCK.

Don't come storming at ME when I bring those facts to light.  Because I was NOT the one to start them.
I did NOT choose to make it ugly.
I NEVER in my LIFE had vile words to say.  And if they had come out that way, up to this point, I was ALWAYS man enough to apologize.

You make your comment here sound so peaceful, like a mere stone in the path that tripped us up, just a bit, along the way...

And then you unleash VENOM in the confines of YOUR sanctum.

I don't know who, what, where, or when to believe in much of ANYTHING anymore, except for what I see and hear and live EVERYDAY.

And for quite some time, that hasn't been interjected by even a "Hey, how are ya?" by you.

No, instead my days consist of severe physical pain, a two-year-old that doesn't always understand why I can't carry him around so much anymore.  I have a husband, who may not have BEEN my husband anymore if we hadn't come to some agreement, who struggles with his diabetes, and has an open wound that hasn't healed in over a YEAR.  And is now on medical leave due to issues in the other foot.  I see my father, in bed, EVERYDAY, where he has been for about 18 months, because he CANNOT move anything lower than his hands... and even that is MINIMAL at best.  I watch my mom deal with her mental, physical, and emotional pain, from past surgeries, medical afflictions, a job that literally tries to force her quit every time she turns around, and having to care for my father's EVERY NEED basically every OTHER waking minute of the day.  Oh, and the newest part is waiting for a phone call from Florida to either ask my dad if he wants to pull the plug on his mother, or that it's too late to make that decision.

I *thought* I had people that understood.  That CARED.  That truly felt that I was part of the extended family that I had placed THEM into.

Grossly mistaken is how I know feel.

How and WHEN the hell was the wool pulled over my eyes?!?

And for god's sake, WHY?

So, now after just reading a blog post very OBVIOUSLY directed at me, in one of the nastiest tones I have ever been addressed in, I'm trapped between tears of anger and ones of true sadness - and actually, neither one of those sounds as good as just shutting down for a while.

So, maybe I should just STOP sharing things that I need to get off my chest.  Maybe I should shut the hell up for a while, and just let the world think that I'm living a parade of perfection.

Or maybe some people should take a look in the mirror and realize that, GEE, maybe some of what has been bothering me is NOT  COMING FROM ME.

I'm done.  For the night.  Maybe for the week.  Maybe longer.  I don't know.