Pour my life into a paper cup...
My birthday.
Friday night was pretty good.
Saturday, my actual birthday, was not as good.
From 6am - 1pm it wasn't that great because no one was getting along.
2pm-10pm was pretty good; Something happened :) and Tatiana and I saw Spanglish.
10:30pm-11pm was hell.
I hate my mother.
When I got home, I went online. She was sitting in the chair next to the computer, reading the newspaper.
She started the whole fight by saying:
"Why didn't you make honors? Tatiana and Arielle did. What the hell is wrong with you?"
I started crying a little, because this year has been kind of hard for me, and I really am trying.
So I told her I was trying, and she said:
"You obviously aren't trying if you didn't make honors."
That really pissed me off because how does she know if I'm trying or not?
So I said,
"Why does it matter if I don't make honors? Why do you always have to compare me to everyone else? Why can't you just be happy with me? Why do you always have to compare me to someone better?"
And then she was like,
"Is it because you're lazy? Because I let you go online? I never see you studying or doing homework, you're so fucking lazy."
"MOM IF I DIDN'T EVER DO MY HOMEWORK, WHY WOULD IT SAY THAT ALL MY ASSIGNMENTS ARE COMPLETED ON MY PROGRESS REPORTS?!"
"WELL YOU MISSED A HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT IN ENGLISH!"
"I HAVE A 98 IN ENGLISH, I DON"T THINK THAT IT'S THAT BIG OF A DEAL!"
"WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE A HUNDRED IN THAT CLASS, WHAT ARE YOU RETARDED?!"
"HAVE YOU EVER ONCE TAKEN MY FEELINGS INTO CONSIDERATION BEFORE YOU START SCREAMING AT ME ABOUT STUFF THAT ISN'T THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!"
"FUCK YOU!"
"IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE JEALOUS, MOM. YOU'RE PISSED BECAUSE I HAVE A CHANCE IN LIFE AND I'M TAKING IT FOR GRANTED. YOU'RE JEALOUS BECAUSE YOU'RE SLUMMING IT FOR MINIMUM WAGE AT STOP AND SHOP AND YOU KNOW THAT I'LL BE ABLE TO GET MYSELF OUT OF THIS FUCKING TOWN. AND NO ONE IN THIS FAMILY WAS EVER ABLE TO DO THAT. AND YOU'RE MAD AT ME BECAUSE YOU HATE YOUR LIFE, AND SOMEHOW THAT'S MY FAULT. BECAUSE IT'S ALWAYS MY FAULT, ISN'T IT?!"
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"
So, I went to my room. And I was sobbing at this point. I just couldn't let her have any satisfaction, so I went back downstairs.
"I want to know why you're doing this to me."
"I want to know why you didn't make honors."
"Because I had a 75 in Spanish. And you knew that. I had all A's and then I had a 75 in Spanish."
"So why didn't you make honors?"
"BECAUSE I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH, MOM. A 75 IN SPANISH. A 75 IN SPANISH. A 75 IN SPANISH. A FUCKING 75 IN SPANISH."
"SO WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE HONORS?"
"BECAUSE I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH. IN ORDER TO MAKE HONORS YOU CAN'T HAVE ANYTHING BELOW A 78."
"SO WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE HONORS?"
"HOW MANY MORE TIMES WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SAY I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH?! WHEN WILL YOU BE ABLE TO COMPREHEND THAT?! OH SORRY, I BET YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE WORD COMPREHEND MEANS, LET ME REPHRASE THAT FOR YOU, MOM. WHEN WILL YOU BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THAT I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH? WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?"
"Because I know you can do more better."
"More better. Yup mom, I can do more better. That's great grammar to be using when you're lecturing me about my grades, isn't it? You're great at setting good examples."
"BITCH! GO TO YOUR ROOM."
So I went. And then once my dad left, I came back down.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up not having a dad? To know that you were a mistake? To notice that you're obsessed with C.J because you tried for 7 years to get pregnant with him, and that usually I am not worthy of your attention? To realize that the only time you care is when report cards come out or when the honor roll is listed in the paper? To hear the whole house rejoice when C.J gets a fucking 60 on his spelling test? When he can fucking spell the word CAT?"
"Ashley, shut up."
"You don't know what it's like."
"My father never let me drink with my friends."
"Oh, cry me a fucking river, mom. You don't let me drink with my friends either. At least you had a dad. At least you had that. At least he was decent enough to stick around."
"Do you want to meet your asshole father, Ashley? Do you want that?"
"Don't even try to understand how I feel. I hate him for doing what he did. I hate him. But he's still my dad, and the only thing I know about him is he left. I hardly even know what he looks like. I don't know what his favorite song is. I don't know what he's like. And that hurts me."
"YOUR FATHER IS AN ASSHOLE. SHUT UP AND STOP CRYING. AT LEAST I MADE HONORS WHEN I WAS IN HIGHSCHOOL."
"Yeah, mom, and look where that got ya. Where would the world be without the world's greatest cashier?!"
Silence.
I was really upset and crying hysterically, so I decided to go outside to calm myself down.
My mom followed me into the kitchen.
"If you try to run away, I'm calling the cops."
"I'm not running away. I want to go outside for a few minutes."
"If you turn that door knob, so help me God, I am calling the fucking cops."
"What the hell are the cops going to do?"
Silence.
I grabbed a knife.
"Here mom, let me just slit my wrists. Why don't I committ suicide? Obviously, I'm lacking a lot of intelligence if I didn't make honor roll, so why am I still here? Honor roll is really what's important in life."
"YOU FUCKING BITCH. PUT THE KNIFE DOWN."
"Why did you have to start shit on my birthday?"
"Go to bed."
"Why?"
"Go to bed."
"I hate you."
"I hate you too."
"I HATE YOU."
"I hate you too. Go to bed."
"I hate you."
"You're not right. You need a physchologist."
"Ever thought maybe you're the one who needs the physchologist?"
"Bitch."
"You hate when I'm right, don't you?"
"Go to your room."
So I went. And I just really hate her. *sigh* If it weren't for my friends or anyone I really care about, I probably would have done something really stupid last night. Thanks guys.
Friday night was pretty good.
Saturday, my actual birthday, was not as good.
From 6am - 1pm it wasn't that great because no one was getting along.
2pm-10pm was pretty good; Something happened :) and Tatiana and I saw Spanglish.
10:30pm-11pm was hell.
I hate my mother.
When I got home, I went online. She was sitting in the chair next to the computer, reading the newspaper.
She started the whole fight by saying:
"Why didn't you make honors? Tatiana and Arielle did. What the hell is wrong with you?"
I started crying a little, because this year has been kind of hard for me, and I really am trying.
So I told her I was trying, and she said:
"You obviously aren't trying if you didn't make honors."
That really pissed me off because how does she know if I'm trying or not?
So I said,
"Why does it matter if I don't make honors? Why do you always have to compare me to everyone else? Why can't you just be happy with me? Why do you always have to compare me to someone better?"
And then she was like,
"Is it because you're lazy? Because I let you go online? I never see you studying or doing homework, you're so fucking lazy."
"MOM IF I DIDN'T EVER DO MY HOMEWORK, WHY WOULD IT SAY THAT ALL MY ASSIGNMENTS ARE COMPLETED ON MY PROGRESS REPORTS?!"
"WELL YOU MISSED A HOMEWORK ASSIGNMENT IN ENGLISH!"
"I HAVE A 98 IN ENGLISH, I DON"T THINK THAT IT'S THAT BIG OF A DEAL!"
"WELL YOU SHOULD HAVE A HUNDRED IN THAT CLASS, WHAT ARE YOU RETARDED?!"
"HAVE YOU EVER ONCE TAKEN MY FEELINGS INTO CONSIDERATION BEFORE YOU START SCREAMING AT ME ABOUT STUFF THAT ISN'T THAT BIG OF A DEAL?!"
"FUCK YOU!"
"IT'S BECAUSE YOU'RE JEALOUS, MOM. YOU'RE PISSED BECAUSE I HAVE A CHANCE IN LIFE AND I'M TAKING IT FOR GRANTED. YOU'RE JEALOUS BECAUSE YOU'RE SLUMMING IT FOR MINIMUM WAGE AT STOP AND SHOP AND YOU KNOW THAT I'LL BE ABLE TO GET MYSELF OUT OF THIS FUCKING TOWN. AND NO ONE IN THIS FAMILY WAS EVER ABLE TO DO THAT. AND YOU'RE MAD AT ME BECAUSE YOU HATE YOUR LIFE, AND SOMEHOW THAT'S MY FAULT. BECAUSE IT'S ALWAYS MY FAULT, ISN'T IT?!"
"GO TO YOUR ROOM!"
So, I went to my room. And I was sobbing at this point. I just couldn't let her have any satisfaction, so I went back downstairs.
"I want to know why you're doing this to me."
"I want to know why you didn't make honors."
"Because I had a 75 in Spanish. And you knew that. I had all A's and then I had a 75 in Spanish."
"So why didn't you make honors?"
"BECAUSE I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH, MOM. A 75 IN SPANISH. A 75 IN SPANISH. A 75 IN SPANISH. A FUCKING 75 IN SPANISH."
"SO WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE HONORS?"
"BECAUSE I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH. IN ORDER TO MAKE HONORS YOU CAN'T HAVE ANYTHING BELOW A 78."
"SO WHY DIDN'T YOU MAKE HONORS?"
"HOW MANY MORE TIMES WOULD YOU LIKE ME TO SAY I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH?! WHEN WILL YOU BE ABLE TO COMPREHEND THAT?! OH SORRY, I BET YOU DON'T KNOW WHAT THE WORD COMPREHEND MEANS, LET ME REPHRASE THAT FOR YOU, MOM. WHEN WILL YOU BE ABLE TO UNDERSTAND THAT I HAD A 75 IN SPANISH? WHY ARE YOU YELLING AT ME?"
"Because I know you can do more better."
"More better. Yup mom, I can do more better. That's great grammar to be using when you're lecturing me about my grades, isn't it? You're great at setting good examples."
"BITCH! GO TO YOUR ROOM."
So I went. And then once my dad left, I came back down.
"Do you have any idea what it's like to grow up not having a dad? To know that you were a mistake? To notice that you're obsessed with C.J because you tried for 7 years to get pregnant with him, and that usually I am not worthy of your attention? To realize that the only time you care is when report cards come out or when the honor roll is listed in the paper? To hear the whole house rejoice when C.J gets a fucking 60 on his spelling test? When he can fucking spell the word CAT?"
"Ashley, shut up."
"You don't know what it's like."
"My father never let me drink with my friends."
"Oh, cry me a fucking river, mom. You don't let me drink with my friends either. At least you had a dad. At least you had that. At least he was decent enough to stick around."
"Do you want to meet your asshole father, Ashley? Do you want that?"
"Don't even try to understand how I feel. I hate him for doing what he did. I hate him. But he's still my dad, and the only thing I know about him is he left. I hardly even know what he looks like. I don't know what his favorite song is. I don't know what he's like. And that hurts me."
"YOUR FATHER IS AN ASSHOLE. SHUT UP AND STOP CRYING. AT LEAST I MADE HONORS WHEN I WAS IN HIGHSCHOOL."
"Yeah, mom, and look where that got ya. Where would the world be without the world's greatest cashier?!"
Silence.
I was really upset and crying hysterically, so I decided to go outside to calm myself down.
My mom followed me into the kitchen.
"If you try to run away, I'm calling the cops."
"I'm not running away. I want to go outside for a few minutes."
"If you turn that door knob, so help me God, I am calling the fucking cops."
"What the hell are the cops going to do?"
Silence.
I grabbed a knife.
"Here mom, let me just slit my wrists. Why don't I committ suicide? Obviously, I'm lacking a lot of intelligence if I didn't make honor roll, so why am I still here? Honor roll is really what's important in life."
"YOU FUCKING BITCH. PUT THE KNIFE DOWN."
"Why did you have to start shit on my birthday?"
"Go to bed."
"Why?"
"Go to bed."
"I hate you."
"I hate you too."
"I HATE YOU."
"I hate you too. Go to bed."
"I hate you."
"You're not right. You need a physchologist."
"Ever thought maybe you're the one who needs the physchologist?"
"Bitch."
"You hate when I'm right, don't you?"
"Go to your room."
So I went. And I just really hate her. *sigh* If it weren't for my friends or anyone I really care about, I probably would have done something really stupid last night. Thanks guys.