There are times when I wonder if I am using this blog as a form of minor therapy. As with any personal writing, I also have to accept that it will never be 100% honest, as, I think anyone would perhaps paint a slightly rose tinted version of themselves. In the last week, as I have mentioned, there has been an internal struggle going on. My Aunt has, to put it quite plainly, been a complete brat. Whilst I understand her frustration at being in hospital, it really cannot excuse the total lack of gratitude or thanks...in fact it just hit home to me how filled with bile and resentment she really is. The ghosts of families past have been summoned, and as a result, I have been feeling really rather down. She got home from hospital today, and exploded with rage at the world. Nothing had been done right, nobody had done what they said they would, her flat was filthy etc etc etc. I got a warning phone call from the warden explaining it all. An hour or so later I received a frosty phone call and it felt like the end of something. I didn't explode with anger at her rudeness or ingratitude. I just turned monosyllabic, and ended the call in a civil, but quick manner. Life is too short and too precious to be wasted on people for whom there is little hope. I look forward to moving on. A few years back, when my Grandfather died, I went through a similar experience with my family, and chose to tell them that I wanted no further contact. To use my friend's analogy, I closed a door. Well for some reason I allowed it to be opened again, and I feel that this time I might need a padlock.
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