God Hates Me

Maybe it is because I am terribly average except at failing in extraordinary ways. Maybe its the fact that I know that he is going to do something fucked up to me, and that nothing surprises me anymore. Maybe still is the fact that no mater how much I say it doesn't matter any more but still does. God will find a way to fuck me over. And over. And if not satisfied with the melted down shell of a man he left behind... he might just fuck with my family.
The last blogs I half ass wrote with no serious thought to how it read, I was doing remarkably well. But alas, It was not meant to be.
No, God has other plans. As if killing me as a child by letting me drown, then having some fucking paramedic revive me so that the battery could continue by an abusive step mother and brother wasn't enough. He decided that he would then pick off everyone whom meant anything to me one by one. Then it was off to a childhood where I was reminded that nothing would ever be good because I was there, and I was too stupid to ever amount to anything.
Then he decided a fucking war was in order. That sure was fun. Lots of exciting things to see that I really wish I hadn't.
He then did something amazing. The one person in life who never failed me, he had marry me. Only to have her become a fucking snake after he killed off several attempts to create a beautiful little life. The taking of the children still hurts. All I ever wanted was a kid. Now it appears he cut that avenue off too.
So after a long road of isolation and self pity( much like the one I embark on now) I tried to do it right. And sometimes I did get it right. But It was only an act. I have never been able to let it go. The fear is always there. And wouldn't you know God came back in Spades. I tried out for the police. Made the top 5 % on the academics test. Out of 2400 people, I was pretty proud. Then Came the physical. I missed the run, but it is my fault for becoming a fat ass. I trained. I cut back on my drinking. Then SNAP! Doing nothing more than walking up the stairs, my fucking foot breaks. For absolutely no fucking reason. I cant even go up the god damned stairs.
Then, he decides that while he has my attention, he will fuck with my family again.
I got a call 3 weeks ago, that my sister, who was actually a healthy 30 something, for no apparent reason had a stroke. Terrified, I rushed as fast as anyone can possibly hop to the hospital. The funny thing? It was exactly a year to the date of my moms stroke. My mom never returned from the hospital, she is here, but not quite the same person. Every day I talk to someone I know, but have to get to know. She has a slightly different personality. Not that I have room to talk. I don't even know who I am. They say my sis will likely be the same way. There, but slightly different.
And again I find myself at war with myself. Its a war that i loose more and more ground in everyday. When screaming doesn't drown out the noise, and all that is left is the bitterness in the knowledge that all that is left is suffering..... how do you look forward to a tomorrow?