People....

Yesterday afternoon, after I completed my 23&me, and got it all ready to post back (though dad hasn’t even opened his yet), my uncle Johnny started his usual InfoWars-based ranting. It got pretty unpleasant to be around pretty quick. I was quit disappointed when he talked grandma’s new husband into agreeing that anyone who waits more than ten days to lay a complaint with the police wasn’t actually raped.
I was glad most people had fled the house earlier in Johnny being Johnny so had avoided having to hear my step-grandad being dragged into it.

I am really not happy about the fact Johnny is now staying for all of our holiday, and even coming with on the first away mission we have planned.

If I didn’t like the Semi-Imaginary-One so damn much I think I might have broken out one of those gay hookup apps and found somewhere to stay that only cost me in dignity and awkward physical contact, that I would rather not, instead of having to put up with all this awful family.

On the Semi-Imaginary note, he is doing a surprisingly good job of making me feel appreciated from afar.  I really do need to have that one awkward conversation with him about things of the last four and a bit years that I don’t know about, so I can stop fearing the worst and imagining a situation that is probably much worse than it is.  But it will be hard, and most likely kind of painful as I while I know my worst case scenario is almost certain to be disproven, I am pretty certain the truth won’t be the best case scenario either.  There is too much grey in which the truth will fall, and any of which will hurt a little.


[PS from a few days later] yes, this post was saying that I am miserable enough that I would consider whoring myself to escape my family. And I really don’t like physical contact with new people. I am pretty against having to touch anyone ever.  There are only a very small number of people that I am okay with hugging and I just have to take it with others I am expected to be happy about hugging.
I mean, what is with shaking hands with people when you first meet them. It is an awful tradition, having to touch a stranger.
It is so gross and awkward.

I may be broken.