life... and why it sucks
Basic plot summation. Before we get carried away. I hate my mother. This feeling seems to be fairly mutual. There we go. Boo-yha!
Last night, she said that she wants me to keep a running list of everything I eat. I didnt reply, just walked away.
She has told my friends to leave every time they have come over within the last two and a half weeks. Then, they go to put on their shoes, and she yells at them to get out. Again.
I cant have thumbtacks in my room, or safety pins. Because I am evidently (to which i am totally oblivious) cutting with them. Needless to say, all of the razors in the house are gone. And scissors. And needles.
She tells me on a regular basis (eg: every half hour) that she understands how I am incapable of doing well in school. Its just not possible, she says, you're not that good. I, on occasion, will show her my poetry...its the one thing I truly take pride in. She tells me in the course of five minutes discourse that they suck.
She considers me the reason for pushing Maris so close to anorexia. (I dont see the logic behind this one, either.)
So, I am being a teenager. Great. Angsty and bitchy and generally whiny.
But I dont give a damn anymore.
The only thing I care about at this point is getting the fuck away from here. I will fly like a bad out of hell on the wings of dreams she shattered. And buried. Etc etc etc.
Amour vincent omina. Love conquers all. Hey, bitch, Latin's a dead language.
Last night, she said that she wants me to keep a running list of everything I eat. I didnt reply, just walked away.
She has told my friends to leave every time they have come over within the last two and a half weeks. Then, they go to put on their shoes, and she yells at them to get out. Again.
I cant have thumbtacks in my room, or safety pins. Because I am evidently (to which i am totally oblivious) cutting with them. Needless to say, all of the razors in the house are gone. And scissors. And needles.
She tells me on a regular basis (eg: every half hour) that she understands how I am incapable of doing well in school. Its just not possible, she says, you're not that good. I, on occasion, will show her my poetry...its the one thing I truly take pride in. She tells me in the course of five minutes discourse that they suck.
She considers me the reason for pushing Maris so close to anorexia. (I dont see the logic behind this one, either.)
So, I am being a teenager. Great. Angsty and bitchy and generally whiny.
But I dont give a damn anymore.
The only thing I care about at this point is getting the fuck away from here. I will fly like a bad out of hell on the wings of dreams she shattered. And buried. Etc etc etc.
Amour vincent omina. Love conquers all. Hey, bitch, Latin's a dead language.