-'. b e e u r d E m p i r e : journal of the beeurd

happy families
# 27 September 2003 22:24

Damn, I just love my family. And I just really love the way we all get along. Shit.

Just got back from my cousin's wedding. We weren't expecting anything that followed protocol, because thats just not the way he is, but everyone seems to delight in bitching about everything that is even remotely bitching-worthy.

All I have heard all night is about what my cousins have done and why they don't deserve anything, why we hate out aunt, and why our nan must be blind. I'm just so goddamn sick of it I'd fucking walk out and never come back if I didn't care about them so much.

Urgh. What did I do to deserve this wretched existence. I can't wait until death, it has to be more enjoyable than this.
Don't worry, I'm not going to go out and kill myself or some shit like that. I could never do that - it would cause more pain to the people I love than it would relieve me from. I can put up with it. I'll get bloody pissed off, but I'll put up with it.

Now, gwyn sent this email today which really hit home. I'll copy and paste it here as my final message. Hey, a moral to the story? *shrug*

There once was a little boy who had a bad
temper. His Father gave him a bag of nails
and told him that every time he lost his
temper, he must hammer a nail into the back
of the fence. The first day the boy had
driven 37 nails into the fence. Over the next
few weeks, as he learned to control his
anger, the number of nails hammered daily
gradually dwindled down. He discovered
it was easier to hold his temper than to
drive those nails into the fence.
Finally the day came when the boy didn't
lose his temper at all. He told his father
about it and the father suggested that the
boy now pull out one nail for each day that
he was able to hold his temper.
The days passed and the young boy was finally
able to tell his father that all the nails
were gone. The father took his son by the
hand and led him to the fence. He said, "You
have done well, my son, but look at the
holes in the fence. The fence will never be
the same. When you say things in anger,
they leave a scar just like this one. You
can put a knife in a man and draw it out.
It won't matter how many times you say I'm
sorry, the wound is still there. " A verbal
wound is as bad as a physical one.

Labels: crap, fable, family

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