(no subject)
I don't really give a shit if any of you get offended by what I write. Yeh, that's fucking right - you can all go fuck yourselves because guess what ? I have enough to deal with without you bitches getting on my back as fucking well.
Now that's out of the way, let's continue, shall we ?
None of you better ever fucking say you understand what I'm going through. Why ? Becase you don't. There is no possible fucking way you can even BEGIN to comprehend what's wrong at this point in time.
I'm eighteen. Do we understand this ? Yes ? Good. EIGHTEEN. That's only just legal to vote. I can get minimum wage. I can go out and get laid and not worry about the guy getting done for stat. I can travel overseas without an adult.
Despite what you all fucking think, this does not make me an adult. I'm still a teenager. I'm expected to act like an adult, but those older than me ? They still get to treat me like a child while it still suits them.
But when it doesn't ?
Oooo. "Everyone has money problems !"
FUCK YOU.
Seriously. Where in the fuck does Tracey get off saying that ? Huh ? Someone want to fucking come out and tell me what right she has to go along and fucking say that ?
Let's review what my LOVELY fucking sister has gone and done, shall we ?
Wayyy back in August, she wanted to go to Canada. Yey ! Canada ! Overseas trip ! All along ? Rob was going out of his way to stop her getting there.
Despite the fact she had spent 12 and a half fucking THOUSAND dollars on nothing. Despite the fact that she asked Dad for more money, then simply went out and spent it on bullshit. Despite the fact that I had been waiting over a year for one hundred and fifty fucking dollars for a phone bill -
- And let's just talk about this for a second. That phone bill ? Toll calls. Yeh, that's fucking right. A three hundred dollar phone bill and I agreed to pay it all for them, and get half back. Despite that it would be 'in drips and drabs'.
Behind my back ? To the guy that was meant to like me ? "Yeah, for the next three weeks, she'll be learning what it's fucking like to be an adult."
So I wasn't paying board - big fucking deal. I was only getting 125 a week. I was buying food. I was buying them shit. But did that matter ? NO. Why ? Because it wasn't up to her standards.
DESPITE the fact she was getting the same amount when she was staying here, but it was quite fucking alright for her not to pay shit and expect us to be happy about it.
Nice to my face. Bitching about me behind my back. Calling me a spoilt brat. Shitting on me with my supposed love interest. Treating me like shit. Not letting me even stand up for myself, and not having the balls to stand up for me. Letting me take the flack for the house being untidy. Bitching at me because all I did was work, and stay in my room. -
- that I still hadn't seen. So, that was fine. Peachy.
Despite her already shitty track record at paying me back, despite her double standards all along about me getting money vs her getting money, I agreed to loan her over a thousand dollars - loan her everything I had gotten from Dad, everything I had saved. (Note here, please, that I actually kept my word and saved one grand out of the two Dad gave me in the big lump of cash. 500 was put aside for schooling, and the other 500 was my play time. She asked for two grand, to put aside for her trip, and what'd she do with it ? SPENT IT ALL.) I did this under one condition - I would get 100 back a week, so that I could not only afford the commision from Wen-M, but so that I could still save as much as I needed in time for May.
Why ?
Because I wanted to visit Jase.
So it was agreed, I would not pay board, and Rob would give me 30 a week until she got back. Thus, one hundred a week to save.
She left. Three days later, the kids were taken by Cyfs.
Rob stopped living at our place. I spent all my wages on the house. On food. On fuel. On keeping my father and I alive. I couldn't afford to save two dollars, let alone one hundred.
Not that he was giving me the thirty, anyway. Noooo. He had money for his parents, but not for us. Even when he did sleep at our place, nothing.
No, I lie. One pack of sausages in six weeks. Yey !
So moving along. No money while she was away. She came back and had no benefit, so, once again I let it slide. After all, I had already lost the commision so I was alright with waiting a little longer.
She got the benefit. About what I was getting when I was first working. Not a dime went on the house, however. After sixty for phone cards to ring James, and smokes, and smokes, and stuff for her ? Didn't leave much to pay her way. Nope. She was living here for free.
Eventually, my boss offered her one day a week working - after she had expressed interest in it, to keep WINZ off her back. Forty dollars for six hours work. All she had to do was turn up.
Did she ? Nope.
Every week, some excuse. All I asked for was FIFTY FUCKING DOLLARS FOR TWO WEEKS. That's fucking all. Then I could afford to either get the commish from Wen-M if he would take it again, or get enough other art that Jase would hopefully forgive me for breaking my promise.
Then I find out she's moving. Five days notice.
Alright, we'll let it slide. We'll ignore that she's already fucking me over, and we'll move on. We'll let sleeping dogs lie for now.
At Claire's ? Ooo. 120 a week board ! That's right. She 'couldn't' afford fifty for me to pay back a loan already months overdue, but she can afford 120 for Claire.
Claire who, by the by, got pissed I was bitching at her. "I've hard a stressful morning at work, and I have to go back to it. I don't want to deal with this." THEN YOU TELL HER TO FUCKING PAY UP ! Neither you or you fucking boyfriend have to deal with it ! I do ! Dad does !
But no. Because you had a bad day, I can't go at her. No, no no no. Just not allowed to. Despite the fact that I'm constantly stressed because of her. Despite everything.
She leaves her bedroom in a shitty mess. As previously mentioned, you don't need to know what was in there that I - who gets shit on for a living - would feel disgusted looking at, let alone touching.
She takes what I offer, then some. She doesn't take responsibility. She gets away with it.
I bitched at her a few times. I always backed down - she was my sister, and she obviously couldn't afford to pay me anything.
She was my sister. She was meant to be there for me. She was meant to keep her word, and she was meant to care.
Dad mentioned she had rung James the day she moved out. Irritated, I rang Telstra to find out what the deal was. I simply could not believe that she would go behind my back, ring her boyfriend, and just not tell me.
85 dollars, you stupid fucks. That's how many toll calls she made behind my back.
I'm pissed, naturally. She placates me. Promises me 200 from selling the tv - to pay for the tolls, plus the money she owes me, plus what I bought Kaitlyn for her birthday on Tracey's behalf.
So I pay the tolls - I have no choice. They're on my bill, after all. I also put a toll bar on - but that's a little like closing the stable door after the horse has already run off.
I get fifty. That fifty buys a little food until the bank un-fucks itself and gives me my wages. It pays Dad for fuel. I'm promised the other 150 soon.
The next bill is due Christmas Day - oh God, that's just hilarious on its own - and will be about three hundred.
I've been counting on the other 150 to afford it. Granted, it's all us, but had she paid her toll calls SHE MADE BEHIND MY FUCKING BACK AND DIDN'T TELL ME ABOUT I'd be over 80 in credit, and fully capable of paying. I wouldn't have been relying on money I'm not going to get.
As it stands, I have to save one hundred a week just to keep the phone on. 100 for food. 20 - 30 for fuel. 15 for smokes. That leaves less than 30 dollars to afford food and fuel halfway through the week when we run out, plus Christmas presents, plus anything that crops up.
Dad got the full brunt of this rant in thirty seconds when he asked if I had had a long day. I suppose I looked pissed when he collected me from work.
I once told someone I didn't want to live if I didn't care if I died. If I could sit on my bed, cry into my pillow, and just not care if I woke up or not.
I miss feeling like that.
It's so much worse to sit here and drive myself insane, wondering if I can afford to live. To know I'm either going to have to swallow my pride and ask someone for money - which, by the way, won't be my boss due to his own money issues; that are much worse than mine - or get another job.
I'm eighteen and I'm dealing with the stress of not having enough money to survive. In my mind, this shouldn't be happening for another few years. Not until I'm out on my own. Not until I'm away from everything and everyone I know, with a job that pays just over 100 a week.
I shouldn't have to sit here and just want to curl up in bed and not get out. To damn near need someone to hold me and lie to me and say it's alright. To tell me I don't have to worry. Not because I'll believe it, but because hearing it will stop the tears for just a little while.
I shouldn't end up making my Dad miserable because he blames himself for the way I feel.
I shouldn't be giving up everything I looked forward to, be giving up the financial security blanket my Dad gave me, because I did something for someone I thought cared.
But I am. I do. I have.
So the next time any of you feel the need to act excited and expect me to care ? Don't.