I give up on reading that damn book. Why? I can't get into it. It contains interesting things, yes - but... It feels like a chore. I hate the book right now. I don't even remember how far I got.
So it's time it go back to the library...when I can find it.
Honesty. Well, what can you do?
Lately, I can't eat. Not at home. I can't eat at home. I've mentioned the filthy repulsive shitbeast before. For a while it was in jail. Then I came home late one awful night, and was horrified to find that it was in the house.
The extent to which my mother lied was disgusting. She lied when I heard the noises. She lied when I got scared. She lied all the way up the stairs. She lied when the shitbeast's door was locked from the inside. She lied when I was freaking out. She lied when I woke my dad... who eventually relented and told me what was going on. My mother deserves her misery. She's the worst person I've ever met. How does she live with herself?
I don't know why I didn't write about this. Maybe because the rage and horror took forever to get over. It was gone the next day. Probably had something to do with the fact that I left the house at three or four in the morning and my beau met me at the street corner to ride downtown to his ..let's call it nerd-club for now. We spent the night there. Slept on yoga mats on the floor.
Anyway, since the shitbeast got out of jail my mother has been having it over, in secret. It's not a secret anymore, I caught her in the act. It's been in my house. Both of my parents have been lying to me. My mother has no regard for how I feel, and her only amusement comes from farmville and hurting me.
The real point is, there's no food inside my house that I can trust hasn't been in the presence of the living shit. There's a box of fiber one bars I hid behind the couch. There's no food at home. There's nothing I'm comfortable touching or being in possession of. I need to get out of there.
I know it doesn't sound sane. Maybe it isn't. I think this has a lot to do with trust, ultimately. Having someone lie to you CONSTANTLY, who really DOES aim to hurt you... well, it doesn't do much for feeling secure. I'm completely alone when I'm at home. These fears follow me everywhere now. I can't trust my mother. I can't trust my father.
The difference between my mother and my father is that my mother WANTS to hurt me, and my father loves me, but is a complete jackass anyway. He lies too, but he feels bad because he actually cares about my well-being and doesn't want me to leave.
My dad yells because he just doesn't get it.
My mother pitches lines like "I don't know how [your boyfriend] can love you" "why is he with you"
She only says these things to hurt me. Then when she does, she laughs.
My homelife has been horrible.
I miss the mother I had when I was little. But then again, maybe she never loved me. Maybe I got that attention because first I was cute. Then she was nice because I wasn't a threat. Now? Now I think she's jealous of me.
She's got menopausal rage. She's gotten fat, does nothing but sit on the computer and become obsessed with myspace games. She hasn't had a job in eight years. Maybe nine. She does nothing but complain about my father, and myself. Especially me. She wants my father to hate me too.
I really didn't want this to become a rant.
I'm sorry.
But she's awful. She talks badly about me to my own nephew. She wants my nephew to hate me too... She's not manipulative enough to fool the six year old, though. He loves me. All this "Aunt *** doesn't love you enough to do this, or that" bullshit is ridiculous.
She should be linched.
She says "I love you" only when she's being sarcastic... one of those things she only does to upset me.
F*** that.
I have nothing at home. She's made that very clear. I can't even pet my dogs because they've been exposed to shit. I talk to them. But I won't let them touch me.
My mother is garbage.
My mother is scum.
My mother HATES me.
I stand by the jealousy thing. She says her other "children" are better than me. A delinquent and a violent alcoholic retarded piece of SHIT. There's a winning hand, right? Fuck you mom.
I should shut up, and save what I intended to say for my next blog. There's so much negativity in my life right now.
I'm sorry for the rage. This isn't who I am. This isn't who I was, and this isn't who I'm supposed to be. If I didn't have my boyfriend, I would have absolutely no escape. I probably wouldn't even be in school anymore, because I'd have flunked out without a sense that I deserve success or sanctuary.
It's really hard right now. It feels like being homeless, I imagine. There's a place I go to every night, yes - but I feel like I have to sleep with one eye open. I hide my things. I never know what's safe to touch. I can't eat in my house. There's no safe place. I'm scared to use that toilet, I have to clean it first. I feel like the soles of my shoes get too filthy to walk in clean places. Eventually, I just feel like I'm not clean at all, because the shower isn't clean. There's CONSTANT fear. There's nothing safe. I'm scared. All the time. I don't even care about being skinny right now. I'd be fat if I could be safe. I have absolutely no control over my environment right now.
But if my own mother is going to starve me, then so be it. Fuck you. You'll just hate me more when I'm thinner, you horrible critical bitch.
