A Fatal Wound

Tell me I’m insane.
I’m so fucking happy, I could cry.

I’m frail, so frail. The pretty glass vase that slipped through your grasp and shattered into a million pieces.

I feel like killing myself.

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The Inevitable Response

One of the reasons I brought money [up] is because haven’t you repeatedly said that you are very materialistic and you want a big house (mansion)?  After all whatever little or a lot  you have will be yours and only yours.    What you said money is not happiness, I agree 100%, but you didn’t.

You are confusing me.

My mental response: people change. I’m still materialistic, and I’ll be damned if I don’t make a lot of money (health profession, hello!)… but still… UGH. I don’t believe money is happiness. Wtf-ness. She continues, in a new email:

2nd part.

And furthermore, it is obvious that you feel you are doing so great and that I don’t appreciate it and feel hurt.  Don’t feel hurt, you are doing great and the good thing is you are a young adult and you don’t need to be near me anymore.  Let’s not cause any more pain to the little relation we have, for that reason I beg that you stay somewhere else.  I honestly wish the very best for you and hope you can have everything in life happiness, health and money.

So, like I was saying, I definitely can’t go back to Mother’s for winter break. Why does my family think I am joking when I say this? “No, just ask your mother in advance and she wouldn’t mind.” I have repeatedly been told by my mother that she doesn’t want me there. How much more proof do I need?

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