Second Post
Well, it's 12:34 am, and I have no idea what I'm doing up at this ungodly hour of the morning. My OCD meds wore off and I just made the most perfect couch-bed anyone could ever ask for. The sheets are so tight I was able to bounce a quarter off of them. I almost thought I could be proud of it, but I wasn't. There is never any sense of pride, that's why I don't stop until it's perfect and even then I have to try to make it better. It sucks, but I can't help it. I just had this idea in my head that said, "I have to make it perfect." There was nothing else. I didn't pay attention to anything else until I was satisfied. Well, not satisfied, I still want to make it better. Damnit, I could never pull an all-nighter; a few hours without my meds and I'm obsessing. A few more and my head starts spinning and I can't think or see straight. That's what happens without them. I get dizzy and I go kind of crazy. One time I forgot to take them in the morning and I ended up with an intense desire to just throw shit; it came out of nowhere, but I wanted so badly to throw something I almost couldn't stand it. So I pushed the screen out of the fourth floor window and threw some papers out.
But the most horrible part of it isn't what I do, because I don't even pay attention to that, I just do it. No, the most aggrevating part is what I start to THINK. I feel right now like there is no need for tomorrow to come. That if the sun didn't rise tomorrow - if the world ended - that it wouldn't change anything at all and I'd be just like I am now -- a mindless vegetable who, just like everyone else, thinks he has feelings and emotions. This is my normal mind talking, so don't believe it. I have to wait until tomorrow afternoon to talk logically and think logically again. I wonder when the fuck this happened to me. Truth be told, I think it's my parents' fault. Of course, I'm a delusional teenager, so that's what I would think, but I have nothing else to blame. It's just that nothing is ever good enough for them. I used to get straight As, but when Latin came in 6th grade and I actually had trouble with school, I got a C and two Bs. I was in BIG trouble. I got straight Cs in Latin for three-and-a-half years, and when I finally got a B in it, my mother was quick to say, "That's great, now all you have to do is get that to an A and you're set." Fuck off. So I slacked for the rest of the year and I got a C again. This year, my report card had four As and three Bs and again, all my mother could focus on was the Bs. She didn't say, "Good job Andrew," no. She was livid that I did not have better grades. Fuck off. So I slacked, and we'll see what my grades are in a few weeks. It doesn't matter what I do, it never does and it never has. Fuck them. I'm doin' shit for ME now. I'm a senior, bitch. You wanna kick me out? Go ahead. I'm leaving in a year and then I won't ever come back to see you, mom and dad, just Mandy and my other friends. As far as I'm concerned, I never want to see my parents again. But that's innevitable. I'll be back to see Mandy. And I'll be back to teach my little brother to drive. My dad likes him more than me. He always has. Whenever there's an argument and Eliott starts whining and yelling (traits he will take to his grave one day), my dad tells ME to stop. He tells me that I'm a narcissist; that I only care about myself and what affects me. BASTARD! How dare he say that to me when he treats my mom with disrespect every time she tries to talk to him. He doesn't do anything when asked a question, he just sits and stares at you like you're an idiot. He treats me like crap a lot, too, but apparently his son doesn't count as one of the "other people" he cares about so much. Lick a slug's ass. It's not that I don't have anything to thank them for, its that they don't have anything to say about me that's good unless it looks like I'm depressed. I hate them right now.
I have to get on with my short life so that when I do get old, I won't be as shitty a parent as they were. I'm going to bed and tomorrow I'll feel better because it will be a good day. If I keep telling myself that, maybe I'll believe it.
Sorry for the depressing post, but it's late at night and I shouldn't have typed it. I am a relatively happy person, this is just one of my bad days.
But the most horrible part of it isn't what I do, because I don't even pay attention to that, I just do it. No, the most aggrevating part is what I start to THINK. I feel right now like there is no need for tomorrow to come. That if the sun didn't rise tomorrow - if the world ended - that it wouldn't change anything at all and I'd be just like I am now -- a mindless vegetable who, just like everyone else, thinks he has feelings and emotions. This is my normal mind talking, so don't believe it. I have to wait until tomorrow afternoon to talk logically and think logically again. I wonder when the fuck this happened to me. Truth be told, I think it's my parents' fault. Of course, I'm a delusional teenager, so that's what I would think, but I have nothing else to blame. It's just that nothing is ever good enough for them. I used to get straight As, but when Latin came in 6th grade and I actually had trouble with school, I got a C and two Bs. I was in BIG trouble. I got straight Cs in Latin for three-and-a-half years, and when I finally got a B in it, my mother was quick to say, "That's great, now all you have to do is get that to an A and you're set." Fuck off. So I slacked for the rest of the year and I got a C again. This year, my report card had four As and three Bs and again, all my mother could focus on was the Bs. She didn't say, "Good job Andrew," no. She was livid that I did not have better grades. Fuck off. So I slacked, and we'll see what my grades are in a few weeks. It doesn't matter what I do, it never does and it never has. Fuck them. I'm doin' shit for ME now. I'm a senior, bitch. You wanna kick me out? Go ahead. I'm leaving in a year and then I won't ever come back to see you, mom and dad, just Mandy and my other friends. As far as I'm concerned, I never want to see my parents again. But that's innevitable. I'll be back to see Mandy. And I'll be back to teach my little brother to drive. My dad likes him more than me. He always has. Whenever there's an argument and Eliott starts whining and yelling (traits he will take to his grave one day), my dad tells ME to stop. He tells me that I'm a narcissist; that I only care about myself and what affects me. BASTARD! How dare he say that to me when he treats my mom with disrespect every time she tries to talk to him. He doesn't do anything when asked a question, he just sits and stares at you like you're an idiot. He treats me like crap a lot, too, but apparently his son doesn't count as one of the "other people" he cares about so much. Lick a slug's ass. It's not that I don't have anything to thank them for, its that they don't have anything to say about me that's good unless it looks like I'm depressed. I hate them right now.
I have to get on with my short life so that when I do get old, I won't be as shitty a parent as they were. I'm going to bed and tomorrow I'll feel better because it will be a good day. If I keep telling myself that, maybe I'll believe it.
Sorry for the depressing post, but it's late at night and I shouldn't have typed it. I am a relatively happy person, this is just one of my bad days.