In spite of the injuries I've sustained and the suffering that continues on a minute-by-minute basis, certain family members, who are more knowledgeable than they lead on, are adding extra steps to obtaining their assistance than are necessary in order to delay my escape from the flames of Hell. In this email, for example, my grandmother pretends she did not receive my first cry for help: In another e-mail, my mother wants to make sure it's okay for me to come, when I already told her it was, as if I am the one hiding things, and am otherwise untrustworthy—and not being hurt: Jimmy, Call me with your probation officers number so we are clear on whether or not it's OK for you to come home. We would love to be able to see you. This isn't a lack of understanding on their part; how could you ignore what everyone has seen with their own eyes? Rather, it appears to be complicity with the problem and those who are causing it. More on the history of ...
My inevitable demise, daily.