Up against the wall, up against the wall...
Here's what pisses me off about my family: (Family being Dad and Brother)
Brother first:
Andrew.
He doesn't seem to realize how much shit I get him out of.
I'm through with it.
If I catch him smoking, he's dead.
If I catch him drinking, he's dead.
If he uses my computer again, he's dead.
He bought a computer for himself because he was sick of fighting over the one in the basement with me. So why was he on it this morning? To piss me off? Or is he just stupid? Probably just stupid. He's been losing millions of braincells recently anyway. And it pisses me off to see how much of an idiot he's turned into. He seems to have no common sense at all.
If I end up living in a dorm, do you have any idea how incredibly bad life will get for you? You'll be doing dishes every night, be it that there will be one less plate. Laundry? Yup. You. Birds? Yup. You. You will be doing everything it is that I do around your house. You'll have nobody left to help you with math without screaming in your ear. Or to help you with research projects.
You'll be screwed.
"Yeah well at least I have more than four friends."
What the hell kind of comeback is that, boy?
List your so-called "friends", would you?
The only two I can think of that are really your friends are Chris Kerry and Luke Dwire. And since Dad doesn't like Chris, you can't hang out with him. And since Luke fucked up and is punished, you can't hang out with him either.
So where are these friends you keep talking about?
I, on the other hand, have a lot of friends that I may not keep in touch with as much as I'd like to, but I know they're there and they care:
Joe, Perri, Alison, Sam Majka, DJ, Terry, John, Flanny, Kat Murphy, Andrew and Martin Simon, Joshwa, Jeff Thomas, Andrew Hausman, Caroline Slingluff, Caroline Wacker, Liza White, and as far as people keep telling me countless others from all over the place.
Jesus are -you- delusional.
And however it is that you may believe you have some sort of "depression", I find that terribly hard to believe. Because I'm your sister. And as much as you fucking piss me off, I do care about you. And I watch you. And as far as I can tell (far from being able to diagnose such things) you're just an angsty little sixteen-year-old bitch. I was when I was sixteen. I was a fucking pain in everyone's ass. An what you have to do, boy, is get the fuck over it. Read a good book. And find some real friends.
"Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends."
Father second:
What the fuck is in your head, man?
Where do you get off punishing me for being the good kid, hmm?
Why is it that, no matter how much you say you accept who I am, you still get pissed off when I come downstairs wearing striped tights or my buckled boots?
Get the fuck over it, because you can't change me.
I am not your doll, or slave, or whatever else it seems you think I am.
I state my opinion, and you shove it down my throat accusing me of "Contradicting everything everyone says." Am I not allowed to say what I believe to be right? Be it that I may or may not in fact be correct? So I make an idiot of myself when I'm wrong. Isn't that what life is supposed to be?
Hmm?
Learning from one's mistakes?
How is it that one day we can laugh and say "fuck" left and right and go about calling eachother assholes, and the next day I forget to do something completely trivial, like say, forget to put your fucking WINE in the freezer!? And thusly all hell breaks loose?
You say your bark is worse than your bite, well fuck that.
Stop fucking barking or I'll start biting.
---------------------------------------------------------
In the Happy news section:
Yay for local shows, even though I honestly feel -so- old there.
The Spotlight were awesome live,
And I do believe that Alsion and I have fallen in love with Ryan Keaton from Adelphi.
And what is it with all these damned Ryans?
Ryan Sherrill, Ryan Flanigan, Ryan Airey, Ryan Keaton.
I'm doomed to like guys named Ryan.
Feh.
Dustin IM-ed me for once.
Dunno if that's a good sign or not.
Could just be another one of those, "Hmm...I'm bored out of my mind, who's online that I can talk to?" things.
Brother first:
Andrew.
He doesn't seem to realize how much shit I get him out of.
I'm through with it.
If I catch him smoking, he's dead.
If I catch him drinking, he's dead.
If he uses my computer again, he's dead.
He bought a computer for himself because he was sick of fighting over the one in the basement with me. So why was he on it this morning? To piss me off? Or is he just stupid? Probably just stupid. He's been losing millions of braincells recently anyway. And it pisses me off to see how much of an idiot he's turned into. He seems to have no common sense at all.
If I end up living in a dorm, do you have any idea how incredibly bad life will get for you? You'll be doing dishes every night, be it that there will be one less plate. Laundry? Yup. You. Birds? Yup. You. You will be doing everything it is that I do around your house. You'll have nobody left to help you with math without screaming in your ear. Or to help you with research projects.
You'll be screwed.
"Yeah well at least I have more than four friends."
What the hell kind of comeback is that, boy?
List your so-called "friends", would you?
The only two I can think of that are really your friends are Chris Kerry and Luke Dwire. And since Dad doesn't like Chris, you can't hang out with him. And since Luke fucked up and is punished, you can't hang out with him either.
So where are these friends you keep talking about?
I, on the other hand, have a lot of friends that I may not keep in touch with as much as I'd like to, but I know they're there and they care:
Joe, Perri, Alison, Sam Majka, DJ, Terry, John, Flanny, Kat Murphy, Andrew and Martin Simon, Joshwa, Jeff Thomas, Andrew Hausman, Caroline Slingluff, Caroline Wacker, Liza White, and as far as people keep telling me countless others from all over the place.
Jesus are -you- delusional.
And however it is that you may believe you have some sort of "depression", I find that terribly hard to believe. Because I'm your sister. And as much as you fucking piss me off, I do care about you. And I watch you. And as far as I can tell (far from being able to diagnose such things) you're just an angsty little sixteen-year-old bitch. I was when I was sixteen. I was a fucking pain in everyone's ass. An what you have to do, boy, is get the fuck over it. Read a good book. And find some real friends.
"Champagne for my real friends, real pain for my sham friends."
Father second:
What the fuck is in your head, man?
Where do you get off punishing me for being the good kid, hmm?
Why is it that, no matter how much you say you accept who I am, you still get pissed off when I come downstairs wearing striped tights or my buckled boots?
Get the fuck over it, because you can't change me.
I am not your doll, or slave, or whatever else it seems you think I am.
I state my opinion, and you shove it down my throat accusing me of "Contradicting everything everyone says." Am I not allowed to say what I believe to be right? Be it that I may or may not in fact be correct? So I make an idiot of myself when I'm wrong. Isn't that what life is supposed to be?
Hmm?
Learning from one's mistakes?
How is it that one day we can laugh and say "fuck" left and right and go about calling eachother assholes, and the next day I forget to do something completely trivial, like say, forget to put your fucking WINE in the freezer!? And thusly all hell breaks loose?
You say your bark is worse than your bite, well fuck that.
Stop fucking barking or I'll start biting.
---------------------------------------------------------
In the Happy news section:
Yay for local shows, even though I honestly feel -so- old there.
The Spotlight were awesome live,
And I do believe that Alsion and I have fallen in love with Ryan Keaton from Adelphi.
And what is it with all these damned Ryans?
Ryan Sherrill, Ryan Flanigan, Ryan Airey, Ryan Keaton.
I'm doomed to like guys named Ryan.
Feh.
Dustin IM-ed me for once.
Dunno if that's a good sign or not.
Could just be another one of those, "Hmm...I'm bored out of my mind, who's online that I can talk to?" things.