Well I'm turning 29 which means my twenties are nearly a distant figment of my imagination and I'm trying to accept the crash into thirty as being something, how can I put it not so damn depressing but I can't seem to shake the fact that I dont want to be middle aged no matter how much I think about it. I mean Jesus christ I still shop in the juniors section at walmart when I go there because it appeals to me so this tells me two things: either I'm extremely mentally underdeveloped which means Im a bigger looser than some of you twats have been trying to tell me that I am or I'm young at heart? Maybe? I dunno. THE JUNIORS SECTION=30 ..hmm. not really. Go ahead and laugh. I'll just cry and say fuck it like I always do. It seems that gives you the biggest kick.

I spend my days arguing with my brother.. he is two years my junior and right now he owns the only form of transportation that I have any access to. So he carts me around, lets me *joy* go to the grocery store all by big girl self and complains about me using his resources i.e. gas and the like. We argue almost constantly over everything from who spends what money on what to who will go where with whom and when. I feel like I'm in hell.

He doesn't care that I've spent money on him for anything- not gas, not groceries, not nice stuff for the house like dishes to eat off of or things to hang up on the walls to make it look nicer so we will enjoy living there. If I buy a wall hanging its too something wrong with it and he complains about that. If I paint something its too something wrong with it and he complains about that. Lets not forget he IS criticizing my art IF I paint so now instead of painting for myself which is what I'm suposed to be doing (right?) I have to think of something he won't barf on a rag me about until I take it down so we can live in some simblance of peace while we are under the same roof. I've decorated the kitchen a little with the money I make while I am 'hard at work.' He could care less..he only complains. I have taken windows and put stamps in them so they kind of look like something you would see in a loft somewhere and you know what he says to me? "You put holes in my walls to hang them."

He painted the walls and it took him almost a whole fing year to do it so they are now his walls.

I ask him why doesnt he do anything to make the house look nicer...i.e. decorate himself a little to his liking which I would let him do if he showed some kind of inititatve to do it, which he doesnt, he would just rather bitch and moan about what to do to make it look nicer as if he is even trying in the first place.

I think his perception on it has everything to do with my house too and therefore..

THEREFORE give a shit? DO something? I dunno..clean your room and dont be satisfied when the lawnmower has gone over the grass a couple times? he could do anything he wanted but he won't he would just rather perpetually view himself and being put upon by his bigger sister in all ways possible because it allows him to be victimized by SOMETHING he cant control because without it what would he bitch about? Where would all the angst go? And heres the kicker..would mommy and daddy stop caring? I dunno..I think it would ooze out of his ears..onto the floor and puddle.

I can't say that he knows or understands that. Tonight we argued about coming over to our parents house. I told him I was coming too and he says to me "don't you get it, I don't want you there."

So rather than finding myself in a mature conversation where two adults agree to go to the same place like ADULTS because they both have the 'right' to be there...yes I'm arguing my right to see my parents because fancy pants brother somehow got a lean on it between me not having a car and him being out of a job for three months...he drops me off and storms off in a rage of OH GOD MY SISTER IS TRYING TO RUIN EVERYTHING.

Seriously I don't know why I try. I bought a grill for twenty bucks (not a bad little grill) and we grilled out today. I thought he enjoyed it. Lets not talk about how expensive it was to cook out. By the time we were at my parents house it was fuck you and the cookout too Lauren.

So. Fuck me. fuck me alll to hell and back. And then fuck me some more. Fuck up my home life and my self esteem..just fuck it all up. Fuck up my efforts to be nice and pleasant (fuck THAT) and fuck up my efforts to do anything else. Take me for granted like most people do and fuck it all to hell and back until I've had enough and I explode.

I've told him to move out. I don't care that I don't have a car. He obviously would rather make my life miserable than do anything else.

The biggest thing of all is, which you have all figured out by now, is that I lied in court and put someone in jail to protect him. To protect his beloved 'house,' his stupid car, his right to live without being ridiculed or laughed at for being a victim of sexual abuse, to protect his ego which is hella huge and getting bigger each day by way of rascist and demeaning sexual slurs abound that know no boundary except the reminder that his shit also stinks. And it just keeps getting bigger. He cares less, takes advantage more and spouts off total mindless crap that amounts to little more than I know you are but what am I you freak of nature, gimme this and I'll take that too and I don't even care if you sacrifice your soul, Lauren, THATS STILL NOT GOOD ENOUGH. Gimme gimme.

JAIL. The box. The pin. The bighouse. ..Harrassment from all of you freaks in my daily life non stop to no end because you like to laugh at other peoples misfortunes.

Maye if I poke here, I will get this response ...there.

You know everything now so laugh it up. Keep laughing. Keep thinking it was my fault Dave all those times I told you to take your medicine and you said you 'didn't need it' all those times I told you to quit drinking and you said you didnt think you would. Remember how I took you away from drugs in Chapell Hill (was it three or four hundred dollars worth of crack debt and angry drug dealers looking to stomp your ass? I don't know I 'forget' LIKE YOU) And I forget how I took you in and put a roof over your head, fed you and kept you resonably healthy so that your own mother would recognize you.

I also forget how when we went to court you were still being a bitch about life and you complained about "my behavior" to your lawyer who thought she knew so damn much about you that she was willing to bet that you wern't voilent per sey..

per sey per sey voilence..violencia came out of you when you didnt get what you wanted, am I right?

When the shots were being called by someone other than you THE BIG MAN in his BIG NEW SHINY HOUSE (which was too small, very dark and poor if I put the right spin on it according to you who's mother is a nurse and whose stepfather was a doctor bringing in the BIG bucks ...the lap of luxury I believe you called it...you didn't like that too much did you...

No. You know I forgive you Dave. For fucking up so bad its not even funny. You shouldn't be angry, you should be thankful. Thankful that you mom finally did the right thing by you by appearing in court, thankful that you had a life to go back to.

I took you to the police station, remember? They didnt jail you, they told you to take care of your business.

They said quit running. I guess you still are though.. out there somewhere running.
And now youve graduated to threatening people with guns.

Congratulations. I fully understand that you have no appreciation for greater minds than yours like ghandi who moved a whole nation with his words and his thoughts of non violence and peace as opposed to destruction and chaos.

No one has asked me why. No one really wants to know..i think.

Dave you were simply at the wrong place at the wrong time. Maybe next lifetime we'll meet again.

Until then..learn to show some respect.

Anyway.. Im turning 29. I think lots of Black Balloons are in order.

Peace.