Ranting makes me feel better
My theory was proved correct, I'm afraid. Grown up children should not only move out from their family houses, but also do not attempt to come back to them. Few exceptions to this rule I know, clearly still are not enough to ruin it for good.
Today I had one more charming conversation about cutting our expences and that means me using up less energy, as in, not staying up so late. Isn't my stepfather (because the idea is his) a charming person? He's the only one working in the family at the moment (although I am still formally studying and will be getting my social scholarship soon, but who cares about soon, when it's not now) and in his opinion that makes him the king of this place. Personally I simply can't remember when I hated him more. Apparently he's one of those charming, adorable persons, who are perfect and lovable, when they need you, but turn into assholes, when you need them. Good to know for the future reference, I guess.
He now claims he worries that he won't be able to make enough money for all of us. So, you know, he buys a new fishtank, which eats up energy like Dr Frankenstein's laboratory, so I need to cut the expensess somehow. The temptation of throwing a turned on blow-dryer into the fricking fishtank is overpowering. The only thing stopping me is that I'm not sure if I'm allowed to use blow-dryer, you know, it takes energy as well.
Le sigh.
So, yeah, we're (my mum and I) in a rather crappy situation. Even if she'd like to dump him (and from what I gathered, she wouldn't be completely against that idea), she rather can't because then we'll starve. Ain't that an enjoyable vision.
Personally I have no idea what she plans to do, I doubt she has any idea. And my fights with her are probably not helping, which is why I've managed to avoid one today, because it was nothing but my sulkiness over being told to go to sleep earlier. And hey, if they're going to treat me as adult who should move out and make their own living, I can sometimes stop myself from childish tantrums. And I admit that telling mum to add my skipped breakfast to the saving list might have been a tad over dramatic. (Fair enough I can't ever eat when I'm pissed off and since I was a child nothing pissed me off more than "you need to go to sleep earlier".)
So now I guess I will only fight with my mother on weekends, because I can't avoid picking up fights with drunk people, and I will ignore my stepfather as much as I can. Being the master of passive-agressive needs to be proven once in a while.
Besides that I'm working on getting a part-time job for now, look for something better later on. I save my frickin' money and I'm moving out earlier than I planned. I'm too much of a bother? I csan put myself out of the picture, no problem. It's not like I planned to live here for the rest of my life.
The only problem I have here is why the fuck they started renovating my room this year if they wished for me to never come back? Although, fair enough, once they took my pictures and posters and notes stuck to the ceiling and walls it does look much more like temporary place to stay than my room.
Oh, fuck them. I'd much rather stress over whether or not I will manage to pay the rent and have something to eat, than worry if people who let me stay with them count every frickin' thing I eat and every frickin' minute I spent with the light on.
Today I had one more charming conversation about cutting our expences and that means me using up less energy, as in, not staying up so late. Isn't my stepfather (because the idea is his) a charming person? He's the only one working in the family at the moment (although I am still formally studying and will be getting my social scholarship soon, but who cares about soon, when it's not now) and in his opinion that makes him the king of this place. Personally I simply can't remember when I hated him more. Apparently he's one of those charming, adorable persons, who are perfect and lovable, when they need you, but turn into assholes, when you need them. Good to know for the future reference, I guess.
He now claims he worries that he won't be able to make enough money for all of us. So, you know, he buys a new fishtank, which eats up energy like Dr Frankenstein's laboratory, so I need to cut the expensess somehow. The temptation of throwing a turned on blow-dryer into the fricking fishtank is overpowering. The only thing stopping me is that I'm not sure if I'm allowed to use blow-dryer, you know, it takes energy as well.
Le sigh.
So, yeah, we're (my mum and I) in a rather crappy situation. Even if she'd like to dump him (and from what I gathered, she wouldn't be completely against that idea), she rather can't because then we'll starve. Ain't that an enjoyable vision.
Personally I have no idea what she plans to do, I doubt she has any idea. And my fights with her are probably not helping, which is why I've managed to avoid one today, because it was nothing but my sulkiness over being told to go to sleep earlier. And hey, if they're going to treat me as adult who should move out and make their own living, I can sometimes stop myself from childish tantrums. And I admit that telling mum to add my skipped breakfast to the saving list might have been a tad over dramatic. (Fair enough I can't ever eat when I'm pissed off and since I was a child nothing pissed me off more than "you need to go to sleep earlier".)
So now I guess I will only fight with my mother on weekends, because I can't avoid picking up fights with drunk people, and I will ignore my stepfather as much as I can. Being the master of passive-agressive needs to be proven once in a while.
Besides that I'm working on getting a part-time job for now, look for something better later on. I save my frickin' money and I'm moving out earlier than I planned. I'm too much of a bother? I csan put myself out of the picture, no problem. It's not like I planned to live here for the rest of my life.
The only problem I have here is why the fuck they started renovating my room this year if they wished for me to never come back? Although, fair enough, once they took my pictures and posters and notes stuck to the ceiling and walls it does look much more like temporary place to stay than my room.
Oh, fuck them. I'd much rather stress over whether or not I will manage to pay the rent and have something to eat, than worry if people who let me stay with them count every frickin' thing I eat and every frickin' minute I spent with the light on.