from a long line of terrible

from a long line of terrible:






 It isn't always true, but most terrible people come from a long line of terrible.  I come from a long line of terrible, mostly on one side.  My other side has a pretty good mix of both.  I come from a boringly typical abusive relationship.  The kind of relationship where the husband and the wife fight over a sandwich, or who won the 1980 world series, and then he calls her a bitch, and she pretends she is a martyr, and we all go to our rooms unhappy.  This was childhood for me.  It was a constant battle to be recognized, to be seen, to be known, and it was unsuccessful.  I tried to fix thing, I fought to do it, I thought that with enough work things would change, but they never did.  Now, I know that inertia is real and not to be fucked with lightly, and I don't fuck with it lightly. 

When I met her a few years ago her inertia ran me over.  Decades of terrible person and terrible things created an inertia that I jumped in front of and maybe slowed it down, maybe sped it up, but eventually I had to jump out of the way because it was going to kill me.  I chose my life.  She chose to ride the inertia.  Maybe she isn't riding it anymore, maybe she is, I couldn't know because I never see or hear from her.  It's been 66 days since I even looked at her blog or tumblr or instagram or anything.  Over 2 months of full radio silence.  I guess I feel more distance, but I also feel other things, like sadness, curiosity, love, and pain. 

At 100 days, I won't wait any longer.