(October 14, 2015 at 3:07 pm)MTL Wrote:So she is so much a piece of shit she uses her own child as leverage? That's just fucking low. What I think you need to do is send a clear message saying " I am will not take your bullshit anymore! " also talk to your mother, have an adult and heart to heart conversation. Of course maybe you should not listen to me here, I'm the sort of asshole that might get violent in these situations.(October 14, 2015 at 2:45 pm)Lemonvariable72 Wrote: Here is a question, why are you letting her have power over you? I mean she is clearly a piece of shit and why should you give a fuck what a piece of shit thinks? I say let her rant and ignore her. Give a man rope, and he'll hang himself.
The problem is the power she has over Mom.
Mom is the one who asked me to move home in the first place, so I could help her launch and run a business.
And it was Mom's idea to let me go to school for two years, whilst living here, in order to help me get back on my feet,
after I worked for free for them for years, and put the last of my savings into her business.
My parents want to see me prepared, by the time I leave home, again.
The problem is that in the meantime, my sister has given my parents a grandchild,
and is using it as leverage to get what she wants:
me out the house, NOW, simply because she doesn't like me,
even though my being here is none of her business and takes nothing from her.
She was also, repeatedly, given the chance to move home and help Mom with the business, herself,
and refused.
But she's happy to treat my parents' house like a vacation spot.
She just doesn't like me living in her vacation house.
To-morrow, and to-morrow, and to-morrow,
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
Creeps in this petty pace from day to day,
To the last syllable of recorded time;
And all our yesterdays have lighted fools
The way to dusty death. Out, out, brief candle!
Life's but a walking shadow, a poor player,
That struts and frets his hour upon the stage,
And then is heard no more. It is a tale
Told by an idiot, full of sound and fury,
Signifying nothing.
