My Journal

Miserable People

2/7/20 - 4:06 P.M

Some people are so f*cking miserable that they strive to make others miserable to make themselves feel less miserable. God, my aunt is one of those painfully miserable people. I hate that woman. I have for years. I rarely hate people, but when I do, you bet I have a good reason for doing so.

Long story short, my aunt has always been my biggest hater. Too often do I hear her nasally voice in my head during periods of self-doubt and fear. She's the epitome of toxic. I cut her out of my life years ago—but there's one problem.

She's my mom's favorite sister.

She and my mom talk on the phone most hours of the day. Sometimes, like today, I tell my mom something about my life, and my aunt (on speaker) would make some snarky remark about it and laugh. I've learned not to respond to those remarks to preserve the peace, but let me tell you, sometimes I want to blow up on that woman. Today was one of those days.

As those of you who keep up with my entries know, I have a YouTube channel where I post content that I absolutely love creating. Last night I recorded content that I especially enjoyed, and this morning, I happily skipped down the stairs to gush to my mom about the joys of recording said content. Well, little did I know, she was on the phone with my b*tch of an aunt who, seconds after I finished talking, responded, "She's going to be so disappointed," before laughing obnoxiously. I pretended not to hear that comment and rushed to the next room to fume in silence. My mom tried to cover up the comment by quickly changing the subject, but the damage had been done. I wish mom had defended me like she's defended my aunt in the past. I mean, I'm talking about my goals here. Why does my mom put up with that?

And yesterday, my aunt came by the house to pick up her dog, who my sister and I had been dog-sitting. I ignored her as usual, but she's the kinda person that thrives on attention. Nasally, she asked, "What are you watching, [my sister's name]?"

"India's watching that."

"What are you watching, India?"

"It's called [insert show here]."

"Oh, that's a stupid show."

Imagine hearing little comments like that about each and every one of your life choices for years. I mean, I can't even watch a T.V show in peace. She's had something to say about my appearance, my relationship, my choice of college, my hobbies! That's part of the reason why I don't tell my mom about any of my most sensitive issues; she's just going to tell my aunt, which will give my aunt ammunition.

God, I hate that b*tch.

One of these days, I'm going to burst. And when I do, all hell will break loose.