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Tuesday, 1 January 2013

Under attack

After fixing myself lunch, I came back to my room and set myself on the bed with my computer. So far, so good, but it couldn't stay that way.

Aunt A came into my room and the first words out of her mouth were "You are bored here with us." While one could understand she meant well and wanted to come across as being worried, it felt like I was under attack. What the hell do I say to that? She's making a statement. It's not exactly false. I offered "What is the solution to that?" and she decided I was admitting my guilty boredom so she pounded on. Honest to goodness, it felt as if she were just about to say "how about you just go back home?". She mentioned going out with friends, but I have none here. I talk to my old friends often enough (or not... but I talk to them). I talk with my parents. Not a lot, but I do. Not about everything that goes on (not about much that goes on), but I do. There were awkward silences where it was all I could do to try and keep a steady face while looking into her eyes, waiting for whatever she wanted to say next, all the while thinking "I'm under attack. I'm under attack." She told me that I don't know her and uncle A very well because we grew apart and implied I treat them differently than I do, for instance, aunt MT. She then went on to call me a very cold person and to say I hurt her feelings. I said I was sorry, in as stoic a voice as I could manage. 

I lifted my hands to notice they were sweating profusely. I don't think I remember the last time I saw my hands sweating like that. And that's how it is. Aunt A wants to say she worries that I'm sad and bored, but it ends up being about how I'm a very cold person and I hurt her feelings. I don't think it has to do with the fact that she and uncle A are relative strangers to me. I grew apart from other family members and it's not quite like that with them. They are hard for me to get along with over long periods of time, that's just how it is. When nearly all conversations take a turn for the depressing, it's all I can do to stay quiet. What the fuck else do I do? I'm not a very sociable person. That has never been a secret. I get by, only just at times. I'd like to believe I've been a good student and a good houseguest while I've been here. I can't speak of how good of a niece I've been because that definition is out of scope. 

Aunt A offered me to come shopping with her and cousin I. That's her therapy for however upset she was and I took it as a truce. It took a little self-restraint to brush the tears off my face and hold them back as I got out and rode in the car but it eventually wasn't so hard and I'm at a place where I'll just go ahead and pretend none of what I described above ever happened. I'll chalk it up to aunt A being unhappy and wanting someone to blame it on. I'll blame it on the fucked up brain chemistry. I will also have to stop to consider that aunt LM, who suffers diagnosed and treated bouts of depression, still manages to be somewhat more positive (read: she doesn't turn every conversation into a damned tragedy). I'll hesitate, and then add that uncle A needs not be so negative ("the fireworks tonight sound so much like gunshots") and has no true excuse... I'll contemplate the strange relationship between those two and decide not to think anything more of it.

Let this new year be a happy one, blog. 

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