And it hurts
I want to write about last night and today, but I'm too annoyed at the moment, so I'll do it later.
I think I need to get a giant sign with "PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" emblazoned across it in bright, flashing letters.
I'm more than a substitute chauffeur, dammit. But that's all she sees me as. I get home, find Mom downstairs, ask her to come up and spend time with me. She wants to finish her game of spider solitaire. So I go upstairs to wait. She never comes... She goes to spend time with my Dad instead. I come looking for her, she spends about a minute with me, when the phone rings. It's time for my mom to pick up my brother. But could I please do it for her? I do. I come home, and she's back in the basement, playing her fucking spider solitaire again.
Apparently, solitaire is just far more fascinating than I am.
And if this was the first time something like this had happened, at least in the past few days, it wouldn't bother me as much.
But it's not.
Why does she have to hurt me so much?
I think I need to get a giant sign with "PAY ATTENTION TO ME!" emblazoned across it in bright, flashing letters.
I'm more than a substitute chauffeur, dammit. But that's all she sees me as. I get home, find Mom downstairs, ask her to come up and spend time with me. She wants to finish her game of spider solitaire. So I go upstairs to wait. She never comes... She goes to spend time with my Dad instead. I come looking for her, she spends about a minute with me, when the phone rings. It's time for my mom to pick up my brother. But could I please do it for her? I do. I come home, and she's back in the basement, playing her fucking spider solitaire again.
Apparently, solitaire is just far more fascinating than I am.
And if this was the first time something like this had happened, at least in the past few days, it wouldn't bother me as much.
But it's not.
Why does she have to hurt me so much?