Pity Party Time
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|Thu, 09-04-2003 - 11:07pm|
Yesterday was my birthday. Number too old to count anymore. The only person to remember was====my momma. She is in ICU with tubes all over and she gestures until someone gets a pad and pen and writes a note to my dad to get money for me. I don't want money. I don't like money. Money is nothing. I lie. My co-workers remembered and got me a cake. It was very nice. And very appreciated. But my hubby, my children, my brothers. Did not even so much as say hi. And my momma did. But - I DON't WANT MONEY. I'd rather have a card. I'd rather have a handshake. I'd rather have something that is important to me. Not something that requires no thought and no knowledge of what I like.
I'm tired. It's interesting that golden boy brother is not here. Why is it that the ones that are cared about the most, care the least about those that care about them. I want to be cared for and the more I want the less I get. He doesn't care, he can do no worng. It stinks.
I wish I'd never been born. It's not worth it.