Deja Vu

Thugboy (my nieces dad, for those of you just joining my blog) was going to Atlanta to begin working on his rap album. Wait a second, rewind, and let me say that again. Thugboy was going to Atlanta to begin working on his rap album with his "manager" after his "manager" voted this coming Tuesday. He's been "going to Atlanta next week" for about six months. But no, they are going next week, after the election, and after TB gets his windshield wipers fixed. Why does that matter you ask? Because TB is driving his "manager" to Atlanta because his "manager" doesn't have a car.

Go ahead, I'll wait right here while you read that again. Oh, you're back. Yeah. So TB has been telling my sister and mother, sweet little things they are, that he is going with his "manager" to work on his album at Bad Boy South. Um yeah, and I'm going to have twins tomorrow. My mother and sister are complete fucking morons and have been eating the shit that flows from his mouth for years now.

But guess what? I got a phone call today. TB is playing Mr. Nice Guy and won't let A come down here for three weeks because he's not leaving for Atlanta for a few more weeks and when he leaves for the A-T-L, he won't see her for awhile. So he doesn't want her coming down here.

He tells me this AFTER I spend all weekend sewing this lovely shirt, buying custom bows, sewing a skirt, and washing new tights. AFTER we had plans to take her to see Walking With The Dinosaurs Live. AFTER we had plans to go to Disney with my aunt and uncle in Orlando. AFTER I took a walk around the lake today daydreaming as we walked that in a week we would be able to take A with us in a jogging stroller and feeding the geese. AFTER weeks of checking in making sure everything is still on.

I'm not going home now. I'm not driving ten hours or spending a few hundred dollars in gas to go vote without A coming back home with me. We were suppose to all be driving back home on Thanksgiving. He's such a fucking dumb ass worthless piece of shit.

I know all things happen for a reason, I truly do.
But WHY in the hell did God give her to them?
WHY in hell am I the infertile one?

After I got off the phone with my mom, I cried so hard I had a headache. In the car, on the way to dinner, NYEBoy put his arm on me and said "I'm so sorry, baby" and I almost lost it. I miss my baby girl. I'm so sick of the mind games the little fuck plays with me. I wish I could get his sorry ass locked up for life.

Yeah, I said it. And I mean it. I hate him.