Just when you start to get that warm, fuzzy feeling...
I swear, I hate this damn cycle. It never fails. Just when I start to feel good, peppy, and a little bit better, then the boom falls. Just when the good times start to roll, I fear the inevitable rainstorm which will drench me with sadness. And sure enough, the rain is falling. I don't think I've been this upset since my family decided to make my birthday into a drama of "why we didn't want to celebrate this today" and I felt like it would just be better to die than to live through the rest of the day.
According to my idiot brother, my Dad locks the door to his bedroom because I go in there "to steal stuff". What I'm stealing, I'm not sure as DJ didn't specify. Also according to DJ, Mom and Dad see through my "bullshit" and they see my greeting cards and gifts as fake. Apparently, everyone makes fun of my cards when they arrive in the mail because "they are just so full of shit". That comment really got to me as I just sent out the St. Patrick's Day cards and bought Mom, Dad, and DJ over $120 worth of gifts from my spring break trip to Gallup.
Of course, his comments hurt like hell, but to top it off, he was on the phone with someone while he was saying all this shit. So he was acting like a big shot, telling me off and cussing at me while some random friend of his was listening in to the whole thing, probably egging him on. I couldn't believe it. It was like some surreal dream. He's screaming at me and he has the house phone up to his ear. All the while as he's screaming at me, calling me a "bitch fuck", I'm trying to gather up Charles and Dolly, and I'm in a hurry because I have to get to EPCC. He followed me around the den as I was trying to get them leashed up, and then he followed me outside as I walked them to my car. And he's still yelling at me with the phone up to his face and the whole neighborhood could hear him talking to me like that...
And here's the rub...Mom's sick and she's home throwing up. I called her this morning during Newspaper class to check on her. She says her body aches and I tell her it's because she is dehydrated and needs some Gatorade. I told her to have DJ go get some for her as he's sitting at home doing nothing, and she said, "No, he's at the gym." So how is this possible that I'm such a bad, horrendous, ridiculous person when DJ's at the gym while our mother is throwing up?
Life sucks.
According to my idiot brother, my Dad locks the door to his bedroom because I go in there "to steal stuff". What I'm stealing, I'm not sure as DJ didn't specify. Also according to DJ, Mom and Dad see through my "bullshit" and they see my greeting cards and gifts as fake. Apparently, everyone makes fun of my cards when they arrive in the mail because "they are just so full of shit". That comment really got to me as I just sent out the St. Patrick's Day cards and bought Mom, Dad, and DJ over $120 worth of gifts from my spring break trip to Gallup.
Of course, his comments hurt like hell, but to top it off, he was on the phone with someone while he was saying all this shit. So he was acting like a big shot, telling me off and cussing at me while some random friend of his was listening in to the whole thing, probably egging him on. I couldn't believe it. It was like some surreal dream. He's screaming at me and he has the house phone up to his ear. All the while as he's screaming at me, calling me a "bitch fuck", I'm trying to gather up Charles and Dolly, and I'm in a hurry because I have to get to EPCC. He followed me around the den as I was trying to get them leashed up, and then he followed me outside as I walked them to my car. And he's still yelling at me with the phone up to his face and the whole neighborhood could hear him talking to me like that...
And here's the rub...Mom's sick and she's home throwing up. I called her this morning during Newspaper class to check on her. She says her body aches and I tell her it's because she is dehydrated and needs some Gatorade. I told her to have DJ go get some for her as he's sitting at home doing nothing, and she said, "No, he's at the gym." So how is this possible that I'm such a bad, horrendous, ridiculous person when DJ's at the gym while our mother is throwing up?
Life sucks.