Faster Than a Speeding Bullet.
I'm full of silly, silly glee. I'm sitting in my aunts living room. D'you know what that means? Warm, clean, tidy house, with a working cooker, laptop with wireless, very adorable puppies and the promise of copious cuddles from a toothy, dribbling nine-month old. Now I remember why I wanted to live with her when I was little. Because I didn't realise that all of that comes with a price. The price being one violent drunk, two bratty children and barrage of emotional abuse.
And that's without the toothy baby in the bargain.
Nothing in this life is free. But that's what it makes it all worth while. The little trades and compromises. The habits and quirks you pick up. Maybe this is just me trying to make myself feel better, but I really think that suffering - if you can get through it - makes you better. Because you have to be more, or you lose yourself to it.
But maybe it's just me. Because I can trace most of the quirks I have to some semi-traumatic event - big or small. Most of them are relatively harmless, some of them I really need to get rid of. Though I suppose that's all part of growing up - figuring out what works, and what doesn't.
I know one thing for sure - it's hard to do it all alone. Exponentially. So, even though my aunt and I don't see eye to eye on most things, and she can be horrible at times I'm seeking help. Because she's the only one in my family who really will help. And she really will.
I've been here about five hours and she's already setting about getting me a moped licence, moped, funding for college, application forms, a job. Anything she can think of.
I have to give a lot, and take a some real ****, but at least - unlike the with the rest of my family - I get stuff back.
I guess that's what life is really about. Learning how much you can get, what it's right to give and when to just walk away.
Also, I just had a rather odd conversation with my nine-year-old cousin.
Him: Why d'you let a gay person stay at your house?
Me: I'm gay.
Him: Yeah, but...
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