(no subject)
I have gotten to the place that I really hate my own mother. I have walked with my head down all my life because of this superior, know-it-all, control freak bitch and now I have had to uproot my children's lives and move into her house to take care of her. She hurts my feelings EVERY SINGLE DAY. She controls my life. When she cannot control something about my life she gets angry. If I complain she runs to her room and pouts. I hate this woman. I mentioned that I wanted a job at the bank. She imediately began telling me how said job would require math and computer skills that I didn't have. A FUCKING BANK!!!! A GD FUCKING BANK FOR FUCKS SAKE!!!!!! It's not brain surgery you old mumbling BITCH!!!!! It is a BANK!!! You dont even need a college education to work at a fucking bank!!!!!
I am so sick of waiting on her hand and foot. She insists of washing dishes and doing laundry but can't assemble her own sandwich. I tell her I want to do my own laundry and she gets angry. She forces me to let her wash my damn clothes. She screamed at me for washing her tshirt with pants once so I stopped doing her laundry. She ruins nearly everything I have to wear, which isn't much, with bleach. I have to let the bitch wash the though or I will hear more. I can't afford to replace the damn clothes she ruins. She always blames it on me and says I bleach them. Horse shit. I bleached something when I was 18 years old and she has never forgotten it, so she blames me when she ruins every damn thing I own.
I HATE HATE HATE this woman. I hate when she wakes up and comes shuffling through the house. I feel like Owen from Throw Momma From the Train. My children are miserable. They were uprooted from their home and from thier friends and brought over here in this dark, miserable, isolated hell hole so I could cater to this old bitch who never wanted me. I should be ashamed for hating her, I really should. I have lived under her rule so long. I lived under her rule before I had to move in with her.
She wants my things put in the garage. She makes up excuses about why she wants my dishes in the garage but the truth is, she hates looking at them because they are MINE. I reminded the old bitch that SHE bought them for me and that changed things a little. My children went out into the garage and brought my dishes back inside because they knew I was hurt.
She mumbles. She mumbles every fucking word she says and I can't understand what the old mumbling bitch says. I understand eveybody else who speaks to me, just not her. She says I am hard of hearing. FUck no, you old bitch. I am not hard of hearing. You mumble and barely more your lips and think I am supposed to hear and understand you. Fuck you, you old control freak!! Fuck you and your mustache.
I am so sick of waiting on her hand and foot. She insists of washing dishes and doing laundry but can't assemble her own sandwich. I tell her I want to do my own laundry and she gets angry. She forces me to let her wash my damn clothes. She screamed at me for washing her tshirt with pants once so I stopped doing her laundry. She ruins nearly everything I have to wear, which isn't much, with bleach. I have to let the bitch wash the though or I will hear more. I can't afford to replace the damn clothes she ruins. She always blames it on me and says I bleach them. Horse shit. I bleached something when I was 18 years old and she has never forgotten it, so she blames me when she ruins every damn thing I own.
I HATE HATE HATE this woman. I hate when she wakes up and comes shuffling through the house. I feel like Owen from Throw Momma From the Train. My children are miserable. They were uprooted from their home and from thier friends and brought over here in this dark, miserable, isolated hell hole so I could cater to this old bitch who never wanted me. I should be ashamed for hating her, I really should. I have lived under her rule so long. I lived under her rule before I had to move in with her.
She wants my things put in the garage. She makes up excuses about why she wants my dishes in the garage but the truth is, she hates looking at them because they are MINE. I reminded the old bitch that SHE bought them for me and that changed things a little. My children went out into the garage and brought my dishes back inside because they knew I was hurt.
She mumbles. She mumbles every fucking word she says and I can't understand what the old mumbling bitch says. I understand eveybody else who speaks to me, just not her. She says I am hard of hearing. FUck no, you old bitch. I am not hard of hearing. You mumble and barely more your lips and think I am supposed to hear and understand you. Fuck you, you old control freak!! Fuck you and your mustache.