...
Things seem to function all fuzzily when you're running on zero hours of sleep. Last night was terrible, there was a screaming argument that lasted all night long and I had to stay up until sunrise in order to make sure that nobody killed anybody else.
First dad's football team lost their game. Why do people act so aggravatingly crazy on account of a silly game? A game is only a game, but dad was mad enough to start breaking things, of which he soon enough started doing easily and readily. The door leading to the living room from the back room is filled with kitchen knife stab wounds now. Lots of cups and plates and ceramics were smashed up, and some lamps too.
So, like, in the middle of this Wendy admits to dad that she's started sleeping with her boyfriend. Why would she do that when he's already in a furious mood? Why? And why the hell when said boyfriend is sleeping over at our place during this particular night? Dad goes ballistic, about eight times worse than before and starts to get violent. Wendy ducks out and so dad turns his violence on mum and me. Very painful, hurtful violence.
He turns his stereo system onto max and plays loud rock music until 8AM, about twenty feet away from my room. It drove me nearly insane, I contemplated leaving and spending the night in a park or something, as long as there was no bloody godawful music playing.
Anyways, now I'm exhausted, amply upset and bruised, with nothing positive to show for it, except that there are still some people out there who seem to care for me. I'm really grateful for that.
Work is tomorrow and I'm half looking forward to it because I can avoid dad until the evening, and half dreading it because I'll be a sleep-deprived zombie who'll constantly be making stupid mistakes.
Sigh. Double sigh.
First dad's football team lost their game. Why do people act so aggravatingly crazy on account of a silly game? A game is only a game, but dad was mad enough to start breaking things, of which he soon enough started doing easily and readily. The door leading to the living room from the back room is filled with kitchen knife stab wounds now. Lots of cups and plates and ceramics were smashed up, and some lamps too.
So, like, in the middle of this Wendy admits to dad that she's started sleeping with her boyfriend. Why would she do that when he's already in a furious mood? Why? And why the hell when said boyfriend is sleeping over at our place during this particular night? Dad goes ballistic, about eight times worse than before and starts to get violent. Wendy ducks out and so dad turns his violence on mum and me. Very painful, hurtful violence.
He turns his stereo system onto max and plays loud rock music until 8AM, about twenty feet away from my room. It drove me nearly insane, I contemplated leaving and spending the night in a park or something, as long as there was no bloody godawful music playing.
Anyways, now I'm exhausted, amply upset and bruised, with nothing positive to show for it, except that there are still some people out there who seem to care for me. I'm really grateful for that.
Work is tomorrow and I'm half looking forward to it because I can avoid dad until the evening, and half dreading it because I'll be a sleep-deprived zombie who'll constantly be making stupid mistakes.
Sigh. Double sigh.