I'm sitting here bawling my eyes out.
I left my room to go get dinner from the fridge. Leftovers. They're sitting in front of me now, and I've lost my appetite.
My dad got home and was in the kitchen at the same time I went out there. He started telling me that he and mom wanted to sit down and lecture me about getting a job.
It took everything I have to keep from cussing my father out.
I'm leaving for Orlando tomorrow, to spend four days with Silvia. Something I should be excited about... getting to leave the house and spend time with my best friend from college. I hardly ever get to see her anymore.
My mom is always asking me why I don't have friends. Why I never invite friends over. Why I never hang out with anyone. Well now I am, but because it isn't the super perfect fucking timing that MOM imagined it might be, that automatically means there's something wrong with me.
Now it's all my fault, and they treat me like the irresponsible child they think I am. Why can they never fucking treat me like I actually have a brain of my own? I'm SO FUCKING RESPONSIBLE that I'm fucking SICK of it. I can only DREAM of making one fucking irresponsible decision in my life. It would be such a release from this perfectionist ideal world that I'm trapped in because my mother never thought I was good enough. And for some fucked up reason, as much as I hate her and know that she's wrong, I still feel the need to fulfill that ideal role.
FUCK YOU.
FUCK YOU, MOM.
FUCK YOU, DAD.
FUCK YOU, WORLD.
I'M SO FUCKING SICK OF IT ALL.
I JUST WANT TO LIVE MY GODDAMN LIFE AND NOT HAVE TO WORRY ABOUT BEING SO FUCKING PERFECT ALL THE TIME.
I DON'T WANT TO BE AFRAID OF TAKING RISKS AND SCREWING UP.
I DON'T WANT TO BE HERE.
I'D BE HAPPY TO LIVE MY OWN LIFE IF YOU EVER LET GO OF MY GODDAMN LEASH. YOU DON'T GET TO CONTROL EVERYTHING I DO. FUCKING LIVE WITH IT.
FUCK.
YOU.