One thing that the past few years married to a ‘millionnaire’ has taught me is that it don’t matter your social class, the color of your skin, the size of your house, what country you live in, your religion or lack thereof….
Families are Insane!
Note, I did not say crazzy. Crazzy is good. Crazzy is what you aspire to become when you’ve dealt with your shit, or most of it. When you don’t care what no one thinks about your fat ass except the person in the mirror. And when you have processed all that insanity that you were force fed by society, schools, and especially your insane family.
I ain’t gonna go into details here about all the insane shit that my posh ass friends and neighbors do and say. Not that any of them read my shit, but I’ll protect their confidentiality anyway. Sufficient to say, they’s just as screwed up and often more so than the friends I had when I was just plain ole’ pooh-white trash. Dems’ people were REAL. And they helped one another out. Something you find in those hallowed halls of high society where everyone is trying to out-do everyone else. And they all living lies.
It would be nice if everyone had the stability of having enough. And I put ‘millionnaire’ in those quotations because the truth is…we ain’t rich. We’s middle-class. We have that ‘enough’ not to worry about next month’s mortgage payment, food, the utilities, or if we drop the phone and the screen cracks. We have ‘enough’ that I am able to give to others, not that I didn’t back then. We have ‘enough’ that I can take @PanKwake on a four-day holiday to the country.
That is what all of us deserve….and no one needs more.
But one of the ways most people get hooked into modern slavery, i.e. live to work, not work to live, is the belief that all those things and money make you happier. And studies, as well as personal experience, shows that to a point that is true. But then….
The older man seemed to sink into the chair, “I’m sorry about this, J. T. But all visits with the children must be supervised until….”
He had been prepared for this. As Laura had told him from the beginning, he might face Sophie’s choices, decisions where he had to place the welfare of one child over the others. But it still hurt. Knowing that his every interaction with his children would be watched and evaluated. Worse still that his son had been used as a pawn in these games. Because he refused to believe a child capable of such…. Hate.
But this was on him. If he had been a better, more involved parent…. If he had insisted Priscilla get the help she needed…. If…. If…. If…. A lifetime of lies and regrets. He could not change that, though. All he could do now was what was best for his children. All of them. Because none of this was their fault.
Tara Cox - Literary Erotica 