Today's one of those days where I can't bear the world and least of it myself. The good news is that linguistics turns out to be real fun. Today's pro-seminar with prof. Marko was really hilarious and for the first time I realized that literature and linguistics do not at all exclude each other. So I guess I'm coming to terms with it. I was a real swot today, repeatedly raising my hands mentioning generic present tense, cohesive devices and epistolary novels. Cheezuz, if it hadn't been me, I would've hated that guy boasting of all around the place ;-)

What I can't bear right now is that I lack in a feeling of belonging to somebody, singular or plural. And I am actually mad as hell at my degenerated family who's nothing but a bunch of losers and emotional wracks who despise each other and don't know the first thing about getting along with each other, much less love one another. I hate it that my Mum seems to lose it and I can't really do anything about it. Whatever effort she puts into getting back on track, it just don't work. I shouldn't feel responsible because she's grown-up and I'm grown-up but still it's so heart-breaking to see someone you strongly feel for failing to hold head above water. What exacerbates the whole situation is that I'm leading a good life here in Graz with all the surrounding circumstances. So I kind of feel guilty for not being able to help my Mum. Nature has it that parents and children always care for one another regardless of age or circumstances but what am I to do? Given this situation shouldn't there be someone in Linz helping my Mum? Like brothers? Parents? Friends? No, not in this case. They are all so occupied with sweeping things under the carpet, protecting what is so innately wrong that they actually forgot about being the very same flesh and blood. I could throw bombs at them, send them hateful messages telling it all like it really, really is. They are burdening me with something a son shouldn't be burdened with and for that I deeply despise each and every one of them. My grandparents are total assholes and the sooner they die, the better for mankind. My uncles? Coward bastards complying with their retarded wifes instead of standing up for themselves. And the worst thing about that: my nephews and nieces are on the verge of becoming their replica. Looks like the new generation ain't gonna be any better than the old one. A vicious circle that I'd love to break into pieces. I kind of am seeing that I am the positive "black sheep" doing my own thing instead of fostering the worst. I just wish I had a relatively normal family where people are there for each other, actually talk to each other and support each other. Unfortunately, what I got is just busloads of material for writing the most degenerate novel of all times. And I don't even feel like writing that novel because that would be the ultimate appreciation of their existence. I'll deny them this appreciation. They are wrong. My mum is right. And this has got nothing to do with some Oedipus Complex or something like that. I'm the judge of this family and I should do something about it to stop my Mum from suffering. But I'm not Jesus. I'm not Elvis. I'm well aware of my own restrictions. Apart from that, I really don't see why I should be the triggering instance to resolve something that is a collective family issue. Even if I could do something about it, this family wouldn't deserve someone being that brave. They deserve to rot in their own mudd. Especially my grandparents have had numerous chances to turn things around but as they are these yellow know-nothings they chose their own destiny. Especially my Grandpa, who I'm sure always knew that my Grandmum is profoundly sick and need professional help, is as despicable as it gets. What a lam-o seeing the landslide coming towards him without doing nothing about it. I mean, what kind of a man is he? No balls at all, sorry to say so. So the only person who could've prevented this family from becoming such a gigantic mess failed in every respect. I think some people are destined to be a failure, just for the sake of experiencing failure. But what is really a shame is that this failure affects so many people whether they realize it or not. My Mum's been the sole one realizing that her childhood was as perverted as it gets and now she's the scapegoat carrying on her back what others committed? So tell me where this is fair? Tell me why such things happen? I'm the one who keeps listening to those stories over and over again. Sometimes I feel not so much like a son but much more like a therapist but I'm clearly not. For most of the time I'm happy to bring my own issues to some sort of a solution. But I'm constantly engaged with this drama that is basically not really mine but still affects me. Life isn't fair and it's always the wrong people being burned at the stake. But maybe for some this is destiny, too. I just wish I hadn't been put in the position to listen to my Mum saying "I wish my life had been different." It's the worst thing you can listen to, especially if it's said by your own mother. Why? There's nothing to answer to that. Nothing. How do you cheer someone up who considers his entire life a waste of time and effort? Even my wisdom has its limits. After all, I'm just 28 years now and that is certainly not an age for being confronted with such large-scale issues.