Alice hates ...

Damn. Let me just say, that was as fun to experience as it was to read. It carried on to this morning, too. I woke up, sat up in bed, and rocked my head side to side, enjoying the heavy feeling which I could only describe (last night) as being 'special'. Like a barbie doll.

But nonetheless, I blogged. I've been doing so everyday, you know. ::proud::

Enough chit-chat.

I'm about to delve into tonight's topic. I'd advise, stop reading now. It's going to get messy from here on out.

Tonight's topic of discussion: Anger.

That's right, boys and girls, Alice has anger in her heart. Pretty surprising, from someone self-identified as a hater. But that was the topic of tonight's message (Pastor Greg doesn't call them sermons, for some reason.)

My main source of anger is David. All that shit from him still bothers me. Most of the time, just thinking about him, period, makes me mad. Angry enough to try to cut him out of my life. And before the holidays, I was doing pretty well at that. Hadn't seen him in... three years. Hadn't talk to him in more. Which was fine by me.

Except, of course, when you stumble into one of Pastor Greg's winners, and you realize just how fucked up your idea of fixing it is. Hot damn.

Ignoring him doesn't work. I'm obviously still mad, still carrying the resentment and hate. I'm jealous of people with good relationships and little things that remind me of him hurt sometimes.

Like Zelda. David and I used to play Zelda together, growing up. I loved watching him play video games, helping where I could and asking questions all the time. He used to get so annoyed, because I'd ask and forget the answer and ask again in an hour. But it would be okay, because he would make Link do something funny to make me laugh. Or shooter games. I haven't played any shooting games without him. When Goldeneye came out, I was eleven. I wasn't very good at spy games, because I take forever lining up my shots like a sniper, and get killed in the process. Or I'd shoot glass or other objects, just to watch it break. Needless to say, I never got very far unless we played together.

Now, it's not like I'm going to avoid Zelda or get all weepy over Splinter Cell. That's just an illustration of the good times, while few and far between, that I miss.

So maybe I'm holding out for an apology. Maybe I'm waiting for him to fix everything, to apologize, to make it better, to make dues.

All those times I could have used his advice, guidance, support, ... anything, and I never had it. Never had a big brother to help me when I needed it. Growing up, I was always at the last person he turned to for anything. He'd spend time with any number of his lemmings before he'd give me the time of day. Using me when he could, ignoring me when he couldn't. Or, even worse, when I'd finally aclimated to the idea that my own brother didn't like me, he'd do things to make sure everyone else in the world (except our parents and the grandparents that loved him more) knew it.

Some of my worst memories come from him, too. I have a tiny scar on my hand from the time I punched through a pane of glass because I was so damned mad that he'd locked me out of the house after school. In the aftermath, Dad had him taken to juvie for the night, and me to the hospital for stiches to my hand and to make sure David hadn't given me a concussion.

But realistically, I just want to make him suffer.

I exclude him from family activities, simply by refusing to be in the same house/area/city. Which forces the choice to my family: Rachael, or David? And they always pick me. They pick me by not inviting him over for birthdays, dinners, Thanksgiving. Not asking, because they know it would mean I would leave, and despite how much they miss their son, he's hurt them too, and we all get along much better without him.

Much, much better. Which may be wrong in itself. When David left, it was like a cloud had lifted. I wasn't mad at mom or dad anymore, and less time spent worrying or fighting with David meant more time together.

I'm one of those people that prefers to deal with their emotions by ignoring them. I'm told you can judge how mad I am by how quiet I am. Or my jokes get mean and cutting. And when I'm sad, I deflect by making jokes. And forget about "love". Ignoring the fact that I don't believe in love to begin with, if I start getting too attached to people, I try to avoid/ignore it until I get over it. (Which works remarkably well, btw)

So when I found out, that very last time, that David had played me on his first leave home from bootcamp, using me to drive him to and from places to buy drugs (all the while, promising me he'd changed, and that he couldn't wait to get home and to see me more), my response was, "Fuck that. I had a brother, once. He's dead to me now."

Initially, it was because I was mad. Then, I did it as punishment.

I wielded the power. He couldn't come home, because I said so. Because I had constructed the dynamic. Because in my head, I was saying, "Look how much happier we are now, without you here." And I loved doing it.

When one of David's many admirers saw me, they'd ask, "Hey, how's your brother?" I'd twist the knife.

"He fucking died this summer. How do you think he is??" (I did that to a girl in Petsmart, once.)
"He's in the army. I'm sure he's loving Iraq right now." (complete lie, but fun to see the response.)
"Don't know, don't care." (Gold standard. Right up there with, Fuck off.)

Or even better yet, when the fucking Grandparents called, the ones that loved darling David so much, called asking. "Have you seen David lately?" No, and I've never been happier, I'd say.


But the whole point it, it's not working. I still feel mad, I still carry around the anger and guilt and saddness.


Now, what will I do with all this newfound self realization? Not a damn thing, because there's no way in hell I'm talking to him again. Fuck that.


I was going to title this one, "With honorable mentions at my feet", and post about something pointless, but there you go. Blame it on Past Greg.