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November, November. When shalt thou at last become December?
November has been relentlessly gnawing on my head, resulting in me going insane. I'm not quite sure how much more of November I can take before I break loose and stab people with sharp pointy objects.
Oh, you think I'm kidding, don't you?
Well, let me inform you that I mean every word I'm saying.

Actually, come to think of it, it hasn't been just November. It's been the past two years. Life seems to enjoy torturing me. Oh, very much so. But I'm not going into all of it...I just want to focus on November at the moment. Because I've decided that November is horrible. Because I can. Do not question my logic, we've been over this several times. It WILL make your head explode, for my logic is non-existent.

In the past 25 days, my life seems to have gone to Hell in a hand basket all over again. (It was a very pretty hand basket, mind you.) Well, I guess it really started back in Octoberish...but that's not when it was terrible. Since my Grandfather's death and the will has been gone over, everyone's been arguing over who gets what and what belongs to who. It's just...ridiculous. In a world where Adults are actually supposed to act like adults, they're acting like children. I've been exhausted because I'm terrified to go to sleep. I know that every time I even think about closing my eyes for a moment, I know I'll have the same dream. Over and over again. It just won't go away...

I suppose watching my grandfather die the way he did wasn't quite the best idea in the world. It's not like I was forced to do it...I could have walked out at any time. So there is no one else I can blame for my disturbance but myself. No one forced me to be at the hospital. And no one forced me to sit there in the hospital room while it was all going on. Although while it was going on...I didn't quite see it all. I did, but at a distant perspective. It was almost like I was just sitting there, watching a drama film or something. It didn't really feel like I was actually there.

His skin had turned a yellowish color...and he was ungodly thin. Stubborn old goat. Had he gone to the doctor about a year ago when he had begun to feel sick, they would have been able to stop the cancer from spreading to his lungs and liver. But did he? No. No he didn't. And now he's dead, with his ashes are in some place being kept a secret. After he had died, he turned hideously white. His skin was not the same tan color I had grown up knowing it to be. I was staring at the bed at an awkward angle, because people were crowded around it and I didn't want to be in the way. My aunt lifted up his hand, but I couldn't see her. All I could see was his hand. And now I dream about that same hand every time I think about sleeping.

My Step Grandmother is an evil, vindictive woman. All of my life, they've only lived 15 minutes away from us. We saw them once, maybe twice a year. I never got the chance to know him...and he never got the chance to know me. We'd invite them over all of the time, but "Elizabeth" had already made plans to go spend the day with Samantha and Greg and their families. She was just spiteful. She'd do petty things to make her family look superior to us. And then she tried to cut us out of his life, just like she did to my Aunt's wedding pictures. She destroyed every last one of them with my Grandmother and him in the same picture. And now that he's dead, she's made our lives even more of a hell by fighting over the will. Apparently he put a good amount of money away for myself and my other siblings for whatever we needed to use it for, and he left other things to the Koury side of the family. But she wants it all. And now everyone's been bitching and moaning about it. I'm so sick of it. Hell, I don't want any of it. they can have all of the damn money for all I care. And now she's threatening to throw his ashes away so we'll never know where he is. Who does that? That's just..wrong. I just want this all over with.

You know, for the first time in my life I have short hair. Well...it's not terribly short, mind you, but it's about shoulder length. It used to be down to my waist. But in a fit of "I hate Jerry" phases, I hacked it off myself. But then I got dragged to a hair salon to go get it fixed so it didn't look as..."Psychopathic" as my mother put it. Jerry. Oh god, don't even get me started on him. I suppose I'm not as...well, pissed off at him as I was before, but hey...he's still oblivious to just about everything.

Men.
I swear, they just don't get it.

Mum broke her shoulder in a car accident about a week and a half ago. So guess who has to do everything now? Yes. You've guessed correctly. It is the Suku Dragon. and guess what else? Just when I think my Grandmother's out of my life completely, she's still stuck here. Because Mom needs the "help" after surgery. She doesn't help at all. No matter what she does, she always causes some sort of problem. She makes things more of a disaster than it already was to begin with. And she picks and prods at me constantly. Its like no matter what I do its never, ever good enough. My Grandfather married the two most hellish women on this entire face of the Earth. He had a horrible taste in relationships.

Honestly, I think SID (Satan in a Dress, or formally known as my Grandmother) and Libby (short for Lizzard b***h, my Step Grandmother) would get along quite well if they ever decided to talk to each other and had no idea who the other was. They're more alike than they think.

Oh. Before I forget. I decided to pierce my ears again myself. I was bored, and it seemed like such a better idea than cutting myself and having people ask questions about the numerous scars later on. So now I have three sets of piercings in my ears. It actually looks quite kick a**. Although it was a major pain in the a** to do...and hurt like a b***h towards the end, it was well worth it.

In conclusion...
Life. Don't you ******** talk to me about life.

[/Suku Dragon rant here]

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