Happy family
So my dad basically hates me and thinks I'm an arrogant kid that doesn't know her place. Whatever. So he said that he doesn't like being here and that we're hostile to him and unwelcoming. Whatever. So my family's falling apart. And it's my fault.
Whatever.
I don't like you anyway.
The bags under my red, bloodshot eyes show just how much I do not care. The puffy face doesn't mean anything: who says I'm crying over this? Neither does the "I hate you, go away" message on my whiteboard: who says I'm talking to you? I could be crying over my messed up life and how much I hate my body and I want to cut myself so bad that I'm actually lying in bed fully dressed, shaking like crazy and gnawing at my fingers.
Or I could just be hormonal.
The message could be directed to the voices talking in my head, telling me to just give in and do it already, and I just want them to go away, and I hate them, because they know everything and bring up my every insecurity I thought I'd pushed away.
Or it could just be random.
Who are you to tell me who I am? Who are you to tell me how I feel?
You don't even know me. You hardly ever see me, much less speak to me.
And I don't mind it that way. I don't need to know you, see you, speak to you.
I don't need for you to know me. Just don't pretend you do.
Just leave me alone, that's all I ask. Is that so hard?