Left on the Row

The blacksheep is something that I have always seen myself as. I am not making this up. I did not come to this conclusion all alone. It took the people that was raising me to make me really believe that this is true. I have a little black cloud that follows me around. The good thing is that I can most of the time find a rainbow in the cloud behind my back. Is it because I was a skinny ugly girl? Maybe it was because the whole family had no use for my mentally ill mother; that for the record was probably smarter than the drunk and selfish that she was surrounded by. She was abused by all everyone everyday. The children even followed the lead of the adults in making fun of her. Children tend to do that. She told the truth more often than her peers, but when she told what was really going on, it was made to be a lie. When my granddaddy chased her from one end of the twenty acres to the end that was something she had made up. She finally just quit telling what he was doing, because it did no good what so ever. My daddy really may not have believed her or he may have just been to out of it with whiskey to care. We were as disfunctional as it came in those days, but famous for working hard. We being the women and children. In my grandmother's eyes, it was a man's world. The penis of a man did his thinking and what ever that penis thought was good enough for her. It was the responsibility of the female being chased to stop the penis. WTF. When my granddaddy was sober he was the leader. He was the farm owner. This was not very often, so putting up with him in charge was a rare thing. He was considered a sick man to my grandmother and she always took up his slack. He was not sick. He was a drunk. He did die not long after we moved here, but that was because of drinking. He died drunk and that always was something my grandmother said she hated. Him dying drunk was not what was going to send this perverted man to Hell, she needed not to worry about that. This day and time he would have been caught up with. He died with many thinking that he was just a drunk. Today he would have been a sexual preditor.

Why Others Prosper?

I am at a point where I am totally confused. I am confused as to how some people can be constantly mean to others and still prospher. Everyone that I come in contact with lately say the most terrible things to one another. An old man fall's and his wife say's God Damn, Fred; like he fell on purpose. These people are old and closer to Heaven or Hell statistically. It seems that belittling others is a way to make some feel big. I have smarted off at times, but not to a point of cruelness. I am homeless, but still find enough kindness to be nice and not so jeolous of the constant words; mine, mine, mine. I hate those words. Selfish is something that I don't want to appear to be, but sometime I would just like to have something. I may not deserve anything. I am not going to be mean if that is what it takes to have. My grandfather, which I know is in Hell, because of what he did to me, was a selfish man beyond belief. He bought a car once and sold it to his own son at a profit. The people I see today are not evil as he was, but pretty evil. Families that don't like one another or have a kind word, WTF. I only hope in my life that if being well off makes you mean, that I never get there.