|Sunday, October 6th, 2002|
12:52p - Have You Seen The Other Side?
Happy birthday and much love to Lisa. Yes, she's great and y'all should go pay her journal a visit. I am fond of her. Yes. Happy BIRTHDAY!
And now on to your regularly scheduled programming.
You know what pisses me off?
Fuck you. Not everything. No, what pisses me off [today] is when you're all revved up to do something at a certain time, something you've been meaning to do (for me, it was wash + clean out + re-christen my car) and then someone beats you to the punch in some way.
Last night [early this morning] when I went to bed, I thought, I'll get up in the afternoon, tell Lisa happy birthday, be well-rested for Adult Swim, and when it's cooler in the evening, just before it gets dark, I will clean out and wash my car, and finish putting glow in the dark stars all over the ceiling.
So then, at approximately 11 (you know, about two or three hours after I got to sleep) that meddling simp who decided to adopt me comes busting into my rheum telling me what I need. What the fuck would she know that I needed?
Meddling Simp: You need to get up. You need to be rested for work tomorrow. Get up now so you can sleep tonight.
Me: (Very cranky and grumpy) No. I just went to bed. And I couldn't sleep because your son and you were having yelling matches in the bathroom at eight am.
Meddling Simp: You just went to bed?! (Oh dear lord, save us all, a teenager with fucked up sleeping habits?!)
Meddling Simp: Well, you should get up. Goddamnit. You didn't sleep last night? (Mutters curses to herself) You should do something constructive. Wash your car or clean it out or something.
(By the way, she busted into my rheum first thing after I heard her and the male dictator unit discussing how someone was in here this morning. Apparently, while they were at Costco, someone crawled in through the window using the front ledge, and they don't want me to know about it because they don't want to "scare me". How about tell me to prepare me, you fucking idiots? They think I'm deaf, but these walls are thin. They think I sleep, but I am awake. Just because I didn't spend all night out galavanting doesn't mean I wasn't awake. They can be really daft. Sometimes my terms of fun are a bit different.)
Me: I was going to wash out my car! (Enraged) Did you ever think I could do it all by myself without you telling me to? Before I went to bed last night I promised myself I would do that. I was even going to ask you to move the [ugly piece of shit follower bitch motherfucking ugly green] Durango. But now I can't.
(If they could only learn to mind their own fucking business. And I DO constructive things. I'm gone from 7.30-6.00 working a nine-to-five job and fighting commuter traffic, AND battling insomnia, AND trying to do laundry so I can look professional enough to keep my fucking job AND trying to move out. But just because I don't help them with their filthy dishes (yes, I do my own fucking dishes!) they think I am useless and don't help. I keep my shit out of their way in our one bathroom. I do my dishes. I never ask them for money anymore since I got a job. They don't see any of this. I must be invisible, or I don't know how to speak the English language correctly. They will never understand anything I do or say. I should never have been adopted. I should have been aborted. I don't care what I would have missed. Death before I could even feel it would have been better than this.)
Meddling Simp: You only say you can't because it was my idea.
Me: (I can barely speak because I am so furious) NO! YOU DON'T KNOW ANYTHING. DON'T EVEN THINK YOU KNOW FOR ONE SECOND!
Meddling Simp: Yeah. Uh-huh. Whatever. [Could it be? Is she really enjoying this? I can hear it in her voice, she loves it.] You should get up.
Me: LEAVE ME ALONE. (Yes, I know. That is so cliched. I should have been more creative and said something like, "Why don't you go do something constructive like bring more helpless children into this orphanage and treat them like you do me?")
She then slams the door and starts talking to herself really loudly about how worthless and lazy I am, just because she knows I am awake, and I can hear her.
So after a while (about 30-45 minutes), she cools off on stomping through the house and banging all the doors open and shut and talking to herself, and then she opens my door and says sweetly, "I got you some jeans at Costco. Do you want to come try them on?"
"They are probably straight-legged pieces of shit," I tell her. She buys me these hideous clothes and thinks they're great, and then makes me feel guilty for never wearing them, and instead only wearing the 'rags' I buy at thrift stores with my own money. Occasionally, she gets me something cool, but she gets mad that I only wear that and not the other monstrosities. When I try to reason with her, saying she never buys me what I ask for, just random junk I never need, she tells me how ungrateful and spoiled I am.
She sighs miserably loud (again, just because I can hear her) and closes the door quietly, like I've just microwaved her puppy.
Now my stomach is in so many knots that I can't sleep, I can't talk to anyone on the phone, all I can do is vent about it in my journal. I can't even jump around to get rid of some of this adrenaline, because this cell is too small to live in, let alone jump around in. This stilted Hell will never be more than an orphanage to me. The male and female dictators, and their bastard son, heir to their throne rule around here, and I am the girl that boards with them, who they feel mistaken for taking in so long ago.
It is times like this I wish I could find my paper journal and have the patience to hand-write it. Fuck livejournal for being so convenient and spoiling me.
( Oh yes, I identifyCollapse )
current mood: censored.
(1 comment |BUH)