Explosives

To others, it may seem just ignorant and naive but to me what they have done is like pissing over the cat, plucking it’s whiskers out, chopping it to pieces, burning the carcass and then pissing over that.

It is absolutely disgusting. They have no thoughts for the future. Yet somehow at, I can see them with boyfriends and husbands in seven years time and snowballs into an unbalanced relationship with 2 kids which ultimately ends in divorce leaving them to run back to their rich parents and ditch the kids there and run off with an bastard Frenchman only to find out he already has 2 wives and this wasn’t the extravagant lifestyle he promised, so they return, they get a desk job for a minor manufacturing company until one day they see their kid, threatens their ex, kidnaps the eldest child and get sentenced to 3 months home detention, and sees no good end to their life, then they realised this was because of their pissing over the cat ordeal.

Aren’t I colorful today? 

Arrrrggggghhhhh

I dont’t know what I should be doing with my life anymore. I see it withering away yet I am unable to do anything about it. Not that I physcially can’t do it, but it’s this false sense of fulfilment I get thats stopping me. If there were more people, I’d be happier and just get on with it, if there are less people I’d give up and move on but no. I’m put in the difficult position of being stuck between the two and stuck in this abyss of false reality. What is it that I crave? Love? Understanding? Support? Most likely, but I won’t admit to this either. It seems that I can lie to them straight in the face and brag about having these when I am thoroughly deprived.

Amelia has struck the truth in my heart today, I have been living in a fantasy world where everything would’ve been better otherwise. If I had an older brother… If I had more time… If I… No. Nothing would be any better, and quite possibly, things would be much worse. I see everyone here talking about all their friends. It feels bad, it feels horrible to know that you are excluded even from the antisocials. Why can’t I form genuine friendships. But it doesn’t matter, does it. Five years down the road, this will all be a hazy memory of when I felt emotionally attached to actors and fictional characters, considered the norm here. And what will I do about this tomorrow? Absolutely nothing. Because I will fall back on what the majority thinks right and just go with it to feel the delusional false sense of acceptance.

No

Do not touch what I am doing, don’t look at what I’m doing, don’t even be in the same room when I cook. Because he should get his snobby fingers out of my work. I don’t care. Don’t touch it. Once someone  makes the tiniest change, its not mine anymore. I don’t work hard so someone else can shit on it at the last minute. Don’t… just don’t. Don’t eat my food without my permission.

You know what, they can all GO FUCK THEMSELVES AND ROT BECAUSE THEY DONT KNOW WHAT RESPECT IT.

wow, just wow. I was asked whether I apologised to her for not showing her my reading material. I said I did, saying, ‘sorry, i didn’t show you my book.’ And without warning, his hand whips out and slaps me across my leg, (because I was sitting down.) At this moment, she walks in as well, and says, ‘did you hear the way she apologised? what was not an apology.’ And he says, ‘see that *points to my red hand mark from the slap*, she is sorry now. And she says, no I dont see, I don’t see anything. And he says, ‘I can make it clearer for you’ raising his hand, ready for another. She says, nevermind and leaves. He returns to me, ‘that is not how you apologize, and if you want to know, it’ll be another slap.’

By now, I am thinking, 1) what was the reason for the slap? was it for apologising? was it for doing something i was forced into and it wasn’t whole-heartedly? 2)why would he slap me again if I wanted to know how to apologise ‘the right way’? Either way, if I were to apologise again, I would be slapped because I would do it ‘wrong’ or need to be taught to do it ‘right.’

He left the room, and I grabbed my camera and took a half decent photo from the slap mark from 5 minutes ago. I am very tempted to upload this photo but somehow I don’t think I should.

He waltzes back in and pretends as if nothing has happened. So I asked, if I did it wrong, how would I do it right? No answer, so I ask again. After two minutes of silence (and thinking time for him) he says, ‘You have to say, “I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have hid the book from you, I should have shown you the book in the car. I’m sorry, I didn’t show you my book at home when I promised because my tiny useless brain couldn’t remember. I’m sorry.” that’s how you apologise.

Don’t anyone dare tell me that these people care one single fuck about me. I am their anger outlet, I am not a person in this household, I am simply an all-able slave here. I have to wait until they finish eating, clear the plates, to wash the dishes, to rinse and dry them, then to continue with my school work due the next day. Of course, this is all happening while they are watching tv, playing computer games. I have to leave my school work and go downstairs at their every beck and call, to simply put their dirty bowls and plates in the sink, to wash it. Because I have no rights in this family. If I don’t comply, they will unplug the internet. If I stay up late, and fuck up my sleep cycle, they will complain and threaten to unplug the internet. If I get any mark below their expectation, they threaten to unplug the internet.

Now, this doesn’t make sense to me, because I stay up late to do my school work, and the only reason I’m up late is because I had to be their little servant during the day. If I don’ stay up late, I get bad marks. If I’m not ‘serving my duty’, I will get no marks. If I get bad marks, the internet will be down and I will get no marks. Now, I don’t now if it’s just me, but their logic is fucked up. They make no sense whatsoever, they are not fit to breed. I’m rather glad I’m the only child because for one to suffer through this is too much, nevertheless more.

Just leave me alone. I don’t care what they call it, it’s not caring. One does not care by intimidating, harassing, annoying me. That is not caring.

It’s not her business what I read, she does not have permission to invade me privacy. Why don’t I want to tell everyone my accomplishments and daily happenings? Because they don’t truly care. I tried, I tried before but I was brushed off because more important matters were at hand. Well, I’m tired of being undermined so you know what, I’ll just step away form the spotlight and stay in my little corner. But no, now I have to tell people about me life, what if I don’t want to now. I wanted to before, but none of them realised, did they? Oh now, they’ve realised? too late, too late now.

And, when I said sorry to her, she said I didn’t mean it. Of course I didn’t mean it. Would I have said it if I wasn’t forced to? No. Exactly, so why am I being forced into doing something and then being accused of it being ungenuine? They need to Fucking use their brains, how can I mean it when I’m being forced to say it. Fuck it. Hypocrites.

Why does this happen? LIKE WHY THE FUCK?

I’m just a bit burraagh about this. like really? I dont know what to say. Put it simply, I’m sad. I’m sad it had to end like this. I mean, I didn’t even get to know them and they just go fly off. maybe this is a sign that I should get on more and interact with them before more leave. but really, why couldn’t some guy’s ego leave, no it had to be Mr peanuts. I’m saying no more.

RL has been putting a lot of pressure on me. I wonder how many people think I’ve quit.

fuck

edit: 69

I wish things turned out differently. Maybe karma has had enough, ‘no she does need that, lets shift some of her luck over here.’ I usually wouldnt complain but it’s different this year. And just thinking about it make me sad. Motherfuckers, its my last year, maybe ought to think it. I am happy for what I have but it’s this one thing. And why did I bother signing up for that other thing. To think I could get away without interacting with the others.I guess I’m not appreciating the things I have.
I want to leave for a while, maybe go somewhere, far away.
In the end, it’ll be the same, we all die but it’s what we do during the time we are alive that counts. I want to go to the three dots, even if it’s a year, three years, ten years from now.I still want to go, even if the people are gone, moved elsewhere, I just for a moment want to think about what might’ve happened. I will probably cry but it does matter. I sometimes wish I had a terminal illness so I could do the things I want, even if I had to face death.