I am sure she has blamed me throughout the years for this one. I am sure it is ammo for the peanut gallery, but for some reason since I was a kid I never remember my mother's birthday. It was just from when I originally learned it. I would get mixed up. Was it the fifteenth, or the sixteenth? No matter how much I tried to hammer that date in there, even writing to it files for reference, only to lose the file.. her birthday I just..

Anyways, the date shown here is a manufacturer's date code. It's funny, I just cut that chunk out the wall and just like that there is the date. Mom's birthday. I would have been nineteen years old. I worked so hard through the week. I was trained to work at full production, and then some. Hit the overdrive and hold it there six days a week. So few guys were trained like I was it seems. We just worked and worked and worked.

Brother Mike would laugh at me. He had a "union" job. He didn't have to do this. He did have to do that. He would laugh at me that I was being used by the guy I was working with/for. I didn't choose to see it that way. Unlike the others who would quit and drop out, I chose to see that he was going to teach me and he did. As I embraced the challenges, he responded in kind. He taught me lots by a young age. A second FATHER.

I probably worked harder then than I ever have again. At least harder than I ever have after the age of twenty-five or so. I worked so hard. My life has not really been normal. Not in regards to my peer group I guess. I was overworked and there are a lot of reasons behind that. For me, on a personal level, this all comes to a chain reaction from having siblings with the wrong attitudes. I wish I could explain that here, but...

My point in this was that in 1994 I was taking my newly learned skills home. I was drywalling bits of the house. At first mom was pissed off with the common attitude towards me. One that was gifted by my siblings. I was always devalued so that they may gain at my expense. I wasn't good enough. Not trustworthy. I should have wrote all this stuff years ago. I wanted to. I have wanted to for decades. Especially when it was more fresh.

Anyways, at first mom was upset that I was disturbing the house. Then at the dust I would create because I wasn't fully on the program of dust control yet. Then I remember came her happiness. I remember her taking pictures. She was happy. She had a kid actually doing something around the house. I was never like the others. They used to laugh at me for raking the needles in the back yard. That would deeply hurt my feelings.

Brother Mike came to me one day. He wanted to suck me into the common game of using me. That's what they would always do to me. They would be really nice and friendly when they wanted me to agree to something. Then when they got what they wanted and I was left short-changed they would laugh in my face. They were "Winners". It's really sad actually. I remember thinking how wrong they were years ago.

Anyways, brother Mike came to me. I could drywall. I could do things. He had this bright idea to build a party house. He wanted to suck me into his plan to turn this house into a place to throw parties. By this time I was in training by a man nick-named the "Snake". Also, I was not like my siblings. I was the victim of their stupidity throughout the years. As consequence of that, I went with dad. I went dad a lot.

I went with dad through his hard years. I watched him suffer tremendously. I watched him bleed. I watch him cry. I was his friend. He was my friend. I love my father more than anyone and I wouldn't trade those years for anything. The others would laugh at me for going with dad. My pre-school teacher, in all her wisdom, didn't want me around my father. It's actually sick. It is sick just how disgusting that everyone else really is.

Everyone points the finger at me. Look in the mirrors you disgusting fucks. I have spent my entire life looking in the mirror. Made to feel tremendously bad for every minor error or flaw. Made guilty. That is a part of me that separates me from so many others it seems. A black and white difference. However, that is a topic for another day. One that should have been written many years ago at buying my first computer.

Back to my brother Mike. He wanted to build a party house here. My instant thought was no way, you cannot do that to this house. You cannot do that to mom and dad. Unlike the others, I was keen to know just how much dad bled for all of us. They laughed at him. They laughed at me. We were two peas in a pod. Just disgusting behavior. The guy would give his life without thought to make things better for others and they'd laugh at him.

I was very keen to the problems my parents had had after things that really may or may not be their fault. It wasn't my dad's fault that the government changed policies in regards to forestry and that hurt the family business. It's not dad's fault that there was a really bad recession in the early eighties and people just literally walked away from their homes unable to afford them. That wasn't his fault, but he took the blame for it.

Speaking of this period. In my medical files, if you had access, you will see a few visits to a psychiatrist. I was so effected in manners that are deeper than people realise that I blurted out "the house" at eighteen years old to the guy I was working with/for. He laughed at me and said I needed to see a psychiatrist. It was just the way it came out of me. With my personality, for the fun of it, I thought: Ok - Let's see a psychiatrist.

In those files you will see written: FAMILY PROBLEMS.

Those are not necessarily "my problems" per say, but the problems of my family members. Maybe there was financial issues for instance. Maybe someone was dying and nearly did, just before this time. Maybe it was a mother with unrealistic expectations and overly high standards. Maybe it was spoiled siblings who were selfish and inconsiderate assholes. Maybe it was knowledge of a dire situation in terms of loved ones.

Back to brother Mike and building a "Party House": Ok, you fucker. You've screwed me enough in my life. Let's take these new found teachings from my mentor the "Snake". This time I will play you. I will let you think that you getting a party house, but what I am really going to do is build a suite so that mom and dad can have revenue. The attempt on my part was sincere. It was to do something for my parents. Secure their future.

I worked so hard at work. Then I would come home and work hard again. I don't even know how I did that. It was just non-stop work. At home here, undoing dad's (a farmer's) handy-work - was a lot of work. Things were overbuilt. It was a tremendous amount of work taking things he built apart. God bless him. He tried to the best of his abilities, but coming from a commercial fabrication background, and a farmer in earlier years...

Then there was all of the "junk". I shouldn't call it junk, but my parents hoarded everything. Mom would deny that out of pride, but even my sister would comment that they hoarded. They kept everything. I myself got that from them I think. I wanted to keep everything in life too. For a guy who's never moved, I have lost so many personal possessions that it's almost unbelievable. I should have been secure and stable.

Nope. Not with "Siblings" all tampering with things they have had NO RIGHT to tamper with.

So Mike and I were going to build a party house, that was really going to be a suite in the best interests of mom and dad. That was the goal. I worked like you wouldn't believe. It took a year I think and I was exhausted by time everything was painted. I wanted a break. I wanted to learn how to tile. I wanted everything done right (even though I did wrong) and mom rushed in with Uncle Bill and they destroyed the tile work.

She wanted it done. I cannot blame her for wanting that really. You cannot blame me for needing a break and wanting to research things like tiling. I was extremely sore with her for that. It would be like her pouring her heart and soul in to a dress and me wanting it done, so I just get some other girl to sew the sequels and buttons on. An extremely selfish thing to do in the manner it happened.

It didn't take long after the start of that project for Mike to drop out. It was WORK. I had insane standards and energy he couldn't match. Also, while I was thinking on different scales as him, he was out looking at "black lights". These would be so cool. Black lights. Party house. That was his take, but not mine. Anyways, Mike wouldn't help work and he would laugh at me because the house was torn apart and it had to be finished.

I remember lifting 5/8" drywall by myself for the ceiling down here and Mike would not help. I groaned so loud putting the last sheet up that mom raced down because she thought I hurt myself. It was heavy. That was not the new lightweight drywall, that was the old clay filled heavy duty hurt yourself drywall. It was hard work. Too hard for me. That's one of the reasons I became a finisher, rather than an installer.

Anyways, I don't know what the point of this post was anymore. I am such a bad kid. I cared about my parents before myself. I put others before me. My mother's friend Bernice told me my mother did not even know what she had had with me. She didn't know that, because she was too occupied getting bombarded by other people and their detracting bullshit. Mom was happy with the basement. She would tell everyone I was going to "get".

When brother Jim heard that, he just had to deflate me. He was the "smart" one in his eyes. He got out. Mom and dad were going to lose everything and he wasn't going to be affected by it. When he heard mom's claims that she intended to reward me, he laughed: "You'll never get". It's all about "getting" to brother Jim. I probably spent $5000 which was a lot of money back then. A down payment. I finally told her that in 2012 or something.

My oldest brother just has this habit of pissing people's cornflakes. He wanted out. He got out. He should have just stayed out. This is where I mean that I should have just punched him out like people told me to. All he ever did was climb on my back and bleed me dry. Just suck the wind out of me. Hold me down. Leech my pride and dignity. I couldn't feel good about myself because of that piece of shit. I do get to call him a piece of shit.

The only reason he came back was to ensure that no one got more than him. He won't put his money in, his effort, his risk, but he rushed back to try to control someone else's investment despise the grave risks towards my parents, this house and my future. It's all about him. I just told him back in November, as the "police" will not help me, that he has killed his brother. He doesn't get it. He just laughed like a sicko. He just doesn't get it.

There are so many ways I can think things. One of those ways is what a co-worker told me in 2008. Norm. The best site labourer I have ever met in my life. That guy could work. You could lick the floors if he was on a job. It was so clean. So organized. So perfect. A great guy. We talked one day. He said his oldest brother was a dick too and later in life he learned to realise what he had done and it was too late for anything but remorse.

Both my siblings, both my surviving siblings, they don't get it. My sister's words tonight. She doesn't get it. My oldest brother, he didn't get it the other month either. His laughter turned into confusion as I confronted him from weak stature. Out of all the things I can think and worry about - is how stupid that they really are. How are they going to feel when they wake up one day and realise that they killed their own brother?

I am lucky to be alive people tell me. Those two idiots don't understand that. They don't understand their part in it. They don't get it. My sister doesn't get the fact that she has cost me the last fifteen years of my life. Nearly anyways. From 2008 onwards it began in regards to the house. Brother Jim isn't conscious of how much damage he has really inflicted upon my person. Since five years old he has been happily destroying my life.

He is completely oblivious. He is too preoccupied with the attitude of: "glad it is not me". Which for him is a driver. It makes him feel better about himself. Someone else's suffering that is. He has not figured out that he should only be comparing himself to himself. Not to others, but to himself. Is he a better person than he was yesterday? That kind of thing. That is the kind of thing you learn when you are forced to overcoming deeps sufferings.

I probably shouldn't be writing this because in spite of how many people have told me that I must want to kill him, I seem to often be more concerned with how he is going to handle his own judgement. I was taught a long time ago that what you do in life tends to come back on you by the end. I know for a fact that my oldest brother could not handle what he has dished out. None of them could. Yet, they are remorseless in character.

There's my sister tonight: just oblivious. She paints her reality to suit herself. Everyone does I guess. My point is that she doesn't even consciously recognize what she has done here herself. Nothing is her fault. She is a perpetual victim. She just came into the lives of two inter-dependent adults, inserted herself between them by force and attempted to take someone's life nearly killing them multiple times. Yet, she's the victim.

It's so long and so involved that I couldn't hope to write it out in one casual sit down. Anyways, I would have had a "normal" healthy life without siblings. In the very least, I would have had a "normal" life if I had had siblings that carried a more accountable sense of their own historical conduct. They only know how to deflect. I am probably the only sibling here who would not be trying to enrich himself off the efforts of another.

Then again, I guess that is the kind of person you need to be to land in this position in the first place.