Proven case

Just spoke with my mom about the logistics of moving. What gets stored where, how things go which place or are in transit, manpower, availability, etc etc. My sister is in a bit of heat for doing what she thinks is right, because it involves money. Same as me. My family has this constant fear of no money.

They say that she is never very clear on what she's doing. That she's ambiguous and evasive, intentionally misleading and subversive. She asks why. I answer honestly: Because half the time, it's well received, and the other half of the time, it's used to judge a situation or a motive and used against us. She doesn't say because she doesn't want the potential confrontation. She'd rather fight a battle she has the upper hand in because only SHE knows the truth, whereas you and dad have the fact manipulation down to an art if she just gives it to you. She's not stupid.
Mom got pissed. (See what talking in Blogs does? It makes me confident. Then I say shit I shouldn't. But it's the truth. The Truth will set you free. right? heh).
She goes off on how if that were really the case, then we wouldn't be able to trust them, and we should be able to trust them, because they're our parents. That's true. We should. But half the time it's a teddy bear, and the other half of the time it's a knife with the point at our throats.
Well, being able to trust her family was not a luxury she had as a child, nor one that dad had either. And they went through their whole lives not trusting anybody, even us. Trust works both ways. You give, you get. They always gave us about a half-and-half chance of screwing them over. So we gave them the same. I see this now. This is a revelation.
I've treated everyone I've interacted with the same way. I've done as I've been raised. I don't trust anyone because everyone's screwed me over. Well now I think I screwed myself over for a lot of them. That's why I get so anxious with my wife. I have to trust her. There's no option. She doesn't trust me at all. Maybe that's because I never really trusted her. And I don't mean in the 'sleeping with other guys' sense. I mean with my heart. I've given, but always been afraid to give that last little bit, so that it becomes an effort. I'm holding onto the last strand for myself so I can still have a piece of me, and giving her the rest. So what I'm giving her is stretched out and useless by the time she gets it. I panic when I have to just give it all, and swing very hard. Like yesterday. (Wow. Yesterday was a clusterfuck of just wrongness on my part.) I've thought the trust thing with us was the other way around until this afternoon. I thought it was a matter of self-preservation. It's not. Self is self. No two ways around it. Giving of the self means you just trust them. And I do trust her logically, and in all practicality. I mean, if it came down to my life, yeah, I can see that being an issue, but I don't want her to do anything to save mine. I embrace death. I seek it. It makes me feel alive. I appreciate it. I will meet it one day. It's not self-preservation. It's self-denial. I am what I am regardless of who holds my heart. My essence is mine. My soul is mine. I give them window and access. It's been poked a few times, but it only hurts because I still keep the wounds fresh by constantly revisiting the past. So it's my fault. Not hers. I'm the one afraid to be myself. She is to, but that's on her personal side. I let this effect both of us. Truth is, we're both kinda messed up. But when we're together, we're so perfect. It's so envigorating. I love every moment. Even when we argue. No kidding. I get excited when she rebukes what I'm saying, tells me why, and gives her perspective. I honestly find that fun, to a degree, minus the yelling voices. It excites me. I've never been angry with her for more than an hour. Even through these last 6 months. Sad, frustrated, confused: yes. Angry? Not yet. No, not self-defense or preservation - self denial.
I'm the same way with almost everybody. Give with the reservation that I may need it back. THAT has a lot to do with why I feel so intimidated, I bet. And why I'm so afraid to just DO. I conquer my fears every time, but still, there's something that makes me squirm and question. This move to Orlando with my wife: I'm excited. I still am. I remember the way things felt, the way we were when we were there. How everything made her smile and get excited. Now everyone's all "Jobs, Avery, Jobs." yeah. I know. Jobs. Economy's down. Yep. For high-end jobs. For extremely low-end jobs. For middle-end jobs. I know it. People are firing and laying off left and right. And hiring for less. And it's taking less and less to live. So...I'm worried? Sorta. Not really. Things always work out. You can make it through anything if you work at it hard enough. I know this well enough by now.

Mom also said she's not helping and not hurting the situation. She likes my wife, she wishes things were going better for her, but whatever I decide and whatever she decides mom's staying out of. Forever. My life now. She's done with it. Interact with her if I want to.
Such a loving family. These were best friends once, mind you. Ones I killed. Ones that took back what they'd given. It wasn't free. It was on lease. OK. I'm done trying to be friends, then. You're just my mom, and my dad, and I don't owe you, and you don't owe me. We're even, we both breathe air, same as you, same as me, and that's where you want it, so that's where it is. I could have made it a lot farther without your inner-turmoils anyway.

"Question: If Control's control is absolute, why does Control need to control?"
"Answer: Control needs Time."
"Question: Is Control controlled by its need to control?"
"Answer: Yes."
"Question: Why does Control need humans, as you call them?"
"Death needs Time like a junkie needs Junk."
"Question: Then what does Death need time for?"
"Answer: Death needs time for what it kills to grow in."

So, for what it is, as Time houses my existence, I can use time to control my future, or end time to avoid being controlled. As Death will inevitably greet me, I might as well spend time that I have doing what I think is best or 'correct'. Therefore, I do what I do. I leave here. I heal my wife. i love her. That is what's 'correct'. That is what's 'right'. It's an emotional choice, but also a logical one. She is my wife. And I love her. And it's my choice. Therefore, i choose. sometimes you have to pick a path and walk it, regardless. Depressing state of things aside, pressures will arise and fall just as waters with the tide. It is the way of things. The way must not be confused for the goal or destination. It is merely the path to get there. We all have our own destinations.

This just happened. Just now. My sister, the one who was being sweet that I defended, just demanded that I sign over my car to her, on grounds both of money and of some unspeakable she wouldn't go into specifics on. She enjoyed being a bitch, because she knew she could get away with it. Because she felt vindicated. justified. She was, in all honesty. I tried to help. I tried to make it better. But I hurt it. And I am punished by way of being stripped of my car. A car is a small price to pay. I now understand that my family and I can never be friends. Ever. Ever.
Ever.
I can want it more than anything in the world. But it won't matter. Just like I said, there's always that one thing that cannot be cured or answered or prevented. That one thing. Never. I killed it. They know I'm trying to start over. They enjoy twisting the blade.

They can have it. I'm going. As soon as I can get out of this responsibilities. I'm gone. I don't care. I'm leaving. I'll sell everything I have to. Everything I can. Everything. I have a 1979 Ford Courier. I have a few hundred dollars. I can't live in the same continent as them. They hate me, and I can't bear it. I've hated myself for so long, and now knowing that they hate me too, and it's pure and just waiting to be used...I can't do it.

Take everyone I've known that's died, put it all in one moment, and that is about as much loss as I feel right now. I am damned. I am gone.

I want to die. Truly. I don't like life. My wife doesn't like me. My family hates me. I chased everyone else off. Good. I die alone. Good.

survival can have someone else who's got a better chance and heart. May the next one use my breath better.

In Peace,

I love you, Andrea. I'm coming. If you love me still, open the door. If not, I'll wait 10 minutes, knocking every 5. After that, I'll take it that you don't, or think it'd be best if I went on my way.
I'm not healing from this one. I've just got to accept it. Time will maybe smooth it out? Or maybe, hopefully, I'll just meet Death, finally. Be done with this life.