A small summary of my up rising.

Both of my parents were addicted to drugs, my dad told me he tried crystal meth at 19 and used it off and on for 24 years if I’m not mistaken. My mom, I’ve never really gotten a clear answer from, she lies a lot. But i know she is also up there in the 20 year(s) marker, she had told me she really quit when I was about 15 or 16, but then i wanna say a year or 2 ago, at my brothers wedding, she showed up skinny, after being rather large for a good while. Well because of my parents drug use, growing up I always said I’d never use drugs and I hated them and I hated anyone who used drugs, a very one sided opinion, but I went through a lot of fucked up shit because of my parents, shit I’m not going to write on this blog. Another key point in this little story, my moms father murdered her mother when my mom was 5 years old, they were both herion addicts, well my moms father went to prison for 22 years, and his dad my grandpa raised my mom, my grandpa was a very old fashion type of man who didn’t really know how to approach the situation, he did his best and I am grateful for him, he was born in the middle of the Great Depression in Mississippi in 1925. Served in WW2, I do not know what he did, supposedly he never spoke of it. Let’s get back on track though, so 22 years later, give or take I have no clue, my moms father was released from prison, and he wasn’t some changed man, he was still the schizo ass hole that murdered my grandmother when my mom was a child, well yad yad, one day he starts beating my grandpas ass, trying to kill him, because ya know that’s what he did he enjoyed murdering people, well grandpa locks himself in his room and pulls out one of his guns and tells him, if you come inside this room, I am going to kill you. Well ass hole breaks down the door, so grandpa shots him in the knee, and he tells him again, stop or I am going to kill you, and he didn’t stop, grandpa shot him in the heart. Something that night wanted him dead. The most vivid memory I have my moms father, is him in his coffin, my mom has taken me to goodwill or some shit and got me some toy, well we pull up to a building I’ve never seen and she asks me, do you want to come in, she didn’t tell me why, or anything, i said no, well I’m in the car and i start thinking what’s taking so long, so I go inside, and I find my mom in a private room she’s crying, and I didn’t understand why until I walked up to the box she was standing over, and I saw him, all dressed up, as a 7 year old child, it scared me, more than a dead man should’ve, he did not look at peace, he did not look like he was resting with his ancestors. He looked evil…