vague mystique.

Recently, my quaint family of three has acquired a new charity case that goes by the name of Aunt Winifred. Around the age of forty and holding no form of higher education beyond high school, my Aunt Winifred has always moved from job to job, looking for the infamous dream career that will fulfill her heart’s desires and give her everything she wants in life. For the past year this “dream job” has been in the form of an environmental thing which is sort of like the Peace Core, where she travels to areas hit by disaster and helps repair the damage (Be it by testing water, collecting toxic substances, etc). Thankfully, for the past six months or so this has had her stationed in sunny California, far, far away from my East Cost residence.

To be blunt, I don’t really like aunt Winifred. As a kid I adored her, always referring to her as the “cool aunt” around my friends, because she always acted like a teenager and seemed to understand everything about me. When I grew up, however, I started to realize that not only does she act like a teenager- she is one. Flimsy, emotional, and a magnet for mistakes, aunt Winifred has never really done anything that could be classified as a “mature” thing in her entire life. She never went to college; she did poorly in school; she cannot hold onto a job for the life of her; she has the worst taste in boyfriends, always picking the abusive ones that do nothing for her. She claims to hate drama but thrives in it at the same time; she takes everything personally; she can change her personality on the drop of a hat to conform to those around her; she wants everybody to like her; she has trouble letting go.

Let’s emphasize on that last part: letting go. That woman cannot seem to let go of anything. She still cares for her ex-husband and still bothers him even though he is immersed in a new life now, with a new girlfriend and family. She still feels the need to look out for her sister (My mother), even though it is obvious that the alcoholic is not worth it and it always ends up with my aunt coming home/calling home sobbing, the Mississippi River taking form in her eyes. Then, most importantly, she can’t seem to let go of me. I’ve tried my hardest to subtly distance us these past few years, be it in busying myself in educational and social affairs every time she visits, to neglecting her phone calls and having extremely short, monotonous conversations with her on the phone, and sometimes, just being a brat around her. I think she just assumes that I’m depressed- that I’M the basket case and that somehow my only cure is to have her cling to me like super glue.

Oh. I forgot to mention the number one reason that I dislike her- she is bloody UNRELIABLE (You could probably guess that from the job flimsiness, though. Ah well). All throughout my childhood she has promised me things that magically never seemed to happen. For instance, she would promise to take me to the beach for the day, but when that day arrived, she would stand me up (For these circumstances I would usually wake up at the crack of dawn for a promised ‘hit the road early’, too, so that made it even worse). She would swear to take me places- concerts, movies, amusement parks. Last summer, when she was in California, she even told me that she wanted me to visit her over the summer, and that we would hit all these restaurants, go to the beach and experience the West Coast ocean, go shopping. Never happened. I always got my hopes up on these things, and most of the time they never happened. I would be ready, and she would never show up. Disappointment always came in shameful waves, the shameful part being that I knew I should have KNOWN better than to get my hopes up.

It was kind of a destructive cycle, always ending with me feeling like crap.

Back to the point, though, dearest aunt Winifred is back again and I am practically imploding out of irritation, not to mention bubbling with anger that nobody seems to realize that WE CANNOT AFFORD A FOURTH BODY IN THE HOUSEHOLD. We are extremely low on money, dammit. My grandmother got laid off last year because her company went into bankruptcy, and all we are living on right now are lousy Unemployment checks from the government and a measly 200 dollar child support check every month from lovely, adorable daddy. We can barely afford to pay the bills. I can’t go out with my friends as much as I used to because most things cost money, the freaking gas prices have been a rollercoaster, and the car keeps breaking. We have ISSUES already. Why do we need to add to them?

But hey, this is just me being logical. No need to listen to Rosalie… it would make much more sense to just continue with our own personal chosen path, the gist of which is acting out of EMOTION. My grandmother feels obligated to help because my aunt is her daughter, and technically is higher up on the social hierarchy and should come first. Serena and I are just the grand daughters. Woe is us. We take up space.

I least I shut the door when I go to the bathroom, though. Unlike some *coughauntwinifredcough* people. At least I don’t interrupt TWO new episodes of HIGHLY IMPORTANT TELEVISION SERIES three-fourths into the hours at the KEY plot points just because I’m BORED and want SOCIAL INTERACTION. Everybody knows not to interrupt me when I’m watching my favorite shows. They know that talking during movies/television is my BIGGEST PET PEEVE. They KNOW that when they are talking during any Chuck Bass/ Blair Waldorf scene I will KILL THEM, or during a pivotal moment with Latnok on Kyle XY.

Except her, obviously.

I wanted to sentence her to death. TREASON! HERESY! INFIDELITY! Hang thee until dead!

I can’t wait until she leaves. I can’t wait until I can shower without fretting over whether or not she used my shampoo, going to the bathroom at night without worrying if she’s going to walk in on me, doing one of my OCD-ish rituals and having her catch me and question my sanity. I want to be able to blast my iPod and dance around the living room in the pitch black darkness knowing that my sister isn’t home yet and my grandmother is in deep sleep. I want to be able to be myself, instead of being an alien polite girl who always cares about what you have to say. And, most of all, I don’t want to listen to her and Serena talk in code about drugs, and about how apparently my sister is going to hook her up with her dealer or something.


I am
sorry family, I know
you like her, but she
is like an earthquake.
It is in her
nature to destroy.
And like all good
earthquakes, there will be

aftershocks.

Hey, the truth hurts.