Well the fuck this paying 10 a 'gram' for bloody leaf I will just go without didn't last long. We got another 3 this now. Its not quite as leafy but it is a bit soggy. Today hasn't been too bad. Gran P must still be in hospital because she hasn't phoned. We feel for her and her failing health but we can't invent family feelings we can't stop being scared of what they are capable of and what they can tolerate. We have no idea who she is or if she cares about us. Sometimes when she phoned and Margo would say it to there's a slight suspicion that she is exaggerating. We kept getting Tony Soprano's mother flashbacks when we talked to her. Not sure who that says more about though..
Programmed or not we don't stop screaming internally that we are not safe and no child is safe around them. That hold Margo had on us, there was the badly tapped on front of some kind of daughterly duty but behind that is the very deep fear and awareness of the consequences for refusing to play the role. The wall of solid ice we would hit whenever we tried, begged to try and reach her. There was no one there. Not for us any of us anyway.
The silence that all the years of being with them has caused in us has been as damaging at times as the punishment for refusing. No matter what we do we end up devastated. Its what we are that's the problem regardless of what we do. You understand that. You must be so scared for us. I hope you are doing stuff I know we used to pressure you a fair bit especially when little to take or not take drugs and do more or less or different stuff. We wish you were able to get us back for all that. We know you have had to a bit but we want and need more. The dislocation and sense of not belonging at all is compounded when we can't do stuff or talk to real people.
Today we have letting ourselves feel a bit of relief and joy that we won't be triggered by Margo any more. Its not like we didn't weep for her when she was alive at the way she was treated by her family and all those outside forces. We have wept for them all. You can't stop feeling something so intensely if you never admit the feeling properly.
The sense that we should, need to do more for the funeral for her mum is fading. The only people we have ever felt any responsibility to is the kids. We don't want to go to the tea and sausage roll bit afterwards we want to walk off into the sunset except it won't be a sunset it will be Kirkcaldy in early January so we are probs best to hang around trying to make the odd sane sounding noise and wait for our ride.
We are already itching to delete our Facebook account. No more shots of ignorant motherfukers and their happy productive family lives. It was never used for the reason we set it up for anyway. Even the fucking logo taunts us 'fuck you Quine you sacrificed yourself because thought we were better people than we are and you were in a position to try and stop suffering and you feel for people while we took what we could get from you leaving you exhausted then went of with your abusers while you and your bairns are raped, enslaved and slaughtered as we pretend to care deeply about any other humanitarian issue that can fit smugly into a meme' ...
Memes or those picture with a written message on them that make up heaps of social media posts.
Keep breathing I know. Try to be whenever possible. So much is over. But we never doubted we could survive this far. We also never really believed that we could be kept safe until now either.
So hey. Fuck knows.