Why, oh why do parents always have to be so complicated all the goddamn time? i told my aunt/mom/thing that i had a drama meeting after school, and she starts whining about if it wasn’t her night off she’d’ve been so pissed and stuff. she’s the one who told me that if i quit cheerleading like she forced me to, then i’d have to do something extracurricular. that’s what I’m doing, and yet… I’M the bad guy!! it’s not even like it costs her anything. and she won’t even be home when the meeting’s over, so i don’t get it. I’m telling you, this woman is unpleasable. she guilts me into quitting the one thing i had going right in my life, and then she tells me that she’ll never forgive me if go and get all fat because i’m not doing anything! As if it was my idea! I hate parents. i really and truly do. Fathers leave you, as if you were nothing more then a spare sock to them, while mothers whine about how hard it is raising three kids, and get congratulated for it! “oh, you’re just so strong, taking care of your sisters illegitimate children.”, and “i could never be that strong.”, and then, a personal favorite when done in baby voice while directed at teenage girl, “you’re so lucky to have such a loving mother.” and of course, the whole time the frigging mary poppins brigade is cheering her on she just sits there, like it isn’t the whole reason she even kept us. she doesn’t know it, but i know just how close me and my sisters got to being put up for adoption. i found the papers in her desk when i was nine. like anyone would adopt a nine year old. they want cute little kids and teenagers to help take care of said little kids. Anyone in between is forgotten. And yet, i think that would have been an acceptable alternative to being where i am now. practically a teen mother without even having the pleasure of sex. which so isn’t fair. if i’m going to be saddled with kids at a young age, i want to have the wild, sweaty monkey sex you see in movies. if no wild monkey sex, then screw it. (heehee, funny pun.)
Tag Archives: teenage issues
not it it, just, changing myself. i think i’m finally ready to mature a little bit. i want him to notice me more then he already does, and i want to know for sure that he’s noticing how i look, not the fact that my fly’s down on the day when the only underwear in my dresser are the tinkerbell ones a bought on a dare! *blush* did that spohomore year… still having nightmares. but hey, it has to be a good sign that he’s notcied me before i decided to look really good, right? and on days where even my unflattering mirror makes me look good, too! people are always complaining about how love incapacitates them… but i think it sets you free. you aren’t afraid to make a fool of yourself if it’s in the name of the person you love.