this is bullshit.

dear mom,


i'm not going to apologize for being the worthless piece of shit you have to tolerate until one of us dies or moves far away from the other. i will, however, apologize for not being able enough to build a time machine, go to the hospital i was born in, wait for myself to be born and slit my own throat.


also, if someone says to you, "get me a razor and a bottle of pills and i SWEAR your problems will be over" it's probably not a good idea to talk with your other children about how fucked up that person is, hm? especially if you're at the bottom of a staircase and they're at the top. because maybe, just maybe there is something wrong with her.


you guys are a fucked up bunch of people and i'm sorry i have to live in this shithole you call a house. oh wait, i don't have to. i'll be out of your hair soon enough.


i wish i could say all that, but in the time it takes i'd probably break down and start laughing. that's my defensive mechanism. one of them, anyway. there's silence, laughter and anger. sometimes there's a strange mixture of all three. my family pisses me off and i'm so stressed and frustrated and i don't even fucking know what else that i've actually made myself physically ill. if i shake my head it starts pounding. moving too quickly makes me nauseous. who's been stuck in bed all spring break? this kid, right here. oh and i totally lied to myself about making up homework. that's so much crap. i can barely get myself in and out of the shower.

i just hope that i'm absorbing all this bad energy so someone else can have a good few days for a while. if this shit storm doesn't blow over soon, i'm doing something drastic. like i should have a long time ago.

i really fucking hate my life.

honestly.