Today I realize that I'm homeless. Not in a literal sense. But today it's brought to shine in front of me more than ever. It was long overdue anyway. With my mother not having the willingness to move out and rent we've been stuck bouncing residences from my uncle and back to the toxic household we once left. I know that it's either there's something so obvious she doesn't want to see, or sees it but doesn't give two fucks about doing something about it.
I left this place so miserable, I come back here more motivated than ever, yet I feel like I'm going towards that painful withdrawal again. The cycle that never ends bc of my mother's poor choices. The ones where she thinks she's less selfish by doing so but ends up the total opposite. I don't know the reason why I came back here. I thought I shouldn't have come back.
I know deep inside I came back to find a job and move out- I came back to move out. That's the plan.
See, the day I arrived back home my asshole uncles decided "hey, let's go back home by midnight where no one is expecting us, then bring home some food for the kids", now you wouldn't understand. But this gesture is like a big "fuck you" to my mother. This ancient issue that hasn't been finished. Both my uncles are terrible fathers and frustrated, unemployed men. They earn once in a blue moon, and manage to use that money to splurge on their ego instead of choosing to use them to help support their children, or alas, their broken families. My mother has shamed them for a long time now, this was the reason why we left in the first place-my mom had enough of them, as well as carrying their families on her shoulders.
Yet at 2 am these mfs had the nerve to come back home after not being home since my mom went back. What great timing. I listen at the echoes of voices downstairs. Seems to me like there's no fight happening.
This is what my mother does best anyway. Keeping quiet.