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fuck and a half
...written on 2003-06-22, @ 6:48 a.m.
Dear god.
It seems like everytime I get a call from my mother - I need a cigarette afterwards instantly. Especially when I hear reports about my father having his mid-life crisis.
That was supposed to have ended almost 6 years ago, but evidently - it hasn't. He's now crusing around with a new cell phone every month, and new car - short shorts and Matrix sunglasses.
*sigh*
And people wonder why I fear marriage and all that.
And - as much as I love my mother - sometimes, I really wish she'd take some of her feisty-ness and use it towards my father.
Mom : He keeps dropping in at a moments notice - and it bothers me when he's asking me where things are that he hasn't used within the recent ten years.
Me : So? Tell him to shut the fuck up or get out of my house.
Mom : ..............
Oppression. Such an ugly word. Empty threats. I don't know how the hell i'm going to get myself out of this vicious cycle, but I'm guessing that racking up my own debts is going to be more worthwhile than being strung along, crossing my fingers that my bank account will be replenished each month.
I used to want to go to sleep and never wake up. It's tiring living under someone else's circumstances. It keeps me up at night I suppose. Trying to make sense of it all and trying to figure a way out.
On the other hand, I know I'm walking in the right direction now.
Freedom. Such a lovely sound to it. I may not have shackles bound around my ankles, but it sure feels like it at times. Sure - its easy to say - well, if its causing you so much grief, then don't think about it. Hmm, easier said than done.
I'm done crying. Done cutting.
twenty-two. soon to be divorced. done almost every drug in the book.
done with the alcoholic phase. done with the sado/masochistic relationships that made me feel whole.
made me feel that if i gave a little piece of myself - i'd be worthy.
fuck that i say.
now if only i hadn't learned all of this the hard way.