I feel like such a fool. Mum never believed me. Not about the money-stealing, not about the tobacco-theft, nothing. NOTHING.
She never believes me. She never listens. She has these distorted, delusional images and stories in her head that she's poured in concrete molds. Nothing I say, or show her would ever budge it. Nothing can crack it-especially if it's about dylan.
Nana confirmed only a few months ago at dinner, just her and I, that the favouritism with my parents (notice the plural, BOTH my parents) with them was simply off the charts.
Thank you nana, thank you for helping me remember that I'm not dellusional. I'm not making things up. I'm not seeing things that aren't there. They're REAL.
My brother stole from me and I'm done with him. I had a glimmer of hope that my mum would take me seriously after what happened, but it'll never happen.
She sent me messages today expressing how I'm the problem. I'm the one causing drama, not dylan. Of course I'm causing drama-he stole from me! He's stolen a lot from me! He gets to be quiet because that's what thieves like-silence. No fingers pointing.
I don't belong here.