words

I get so pissed off sometimes. I live in a home full of hypocritical nonsense and whenever I try to speak up about it I'M the one that gets a harsh slap on the wrist. For example, I decided to start washing dishes this morning, since that jerkoff that I live with (Mark's stepfather) has chosen to let them pile up, and then he came into the room and said that he'd do it. Okay, that's cool. I went back to bed. Mark and I go out with Aivril and it's a fun day. We come home, and there are even more dishes piled up on the counter. I know that the one thing Mark's mother  cannot stand is having to wash dishes when she gets home from a twelve hour shift. And I know that jerkoff will not wash them as he said he would. I know that it will be me, and maybe Mark, who will get reprimanded. What irks me the most is every time I try to speak up about this sort of activity, Debi (Mark's mother) shuts it down with "I just want everyone to get along". Okay, great. I get that. But how can that happen when the "master of the house" refuses to do anything and then the two irresponsible kids get blamed for it? I hate it here. I feel like I'm drowning. Every day, time and time again, this asshole makes me feel inferior and unimportant. I've started cutting again. I hate who I am becoming. I want to be a good mother for my daughter, but with every little mistake I make as a result of being a human being, jerkoff is there to magnify it and make me feel like an abusive, unattentive parent. Who does he think he is? It's not like he treats his own daughter with the utmost love and care. He treats her like absolute crap when he thinks no one else is looking. But no one believes me. It's like my voice box has been torn out of my throat. The steam coming out of the shower can be heard better than I can be. Fuck.

Traffic

Let me tell you a story. This is a story about a girl who is tired of being called an attention-seeking whine-bag whenever she opens up about her feelings. This is the story about a girl who has had a rough deal that she did not choose, and who will forever be judged on something that should not define her. This girl was abused from day one, and now that she is almost nineteen years old, she is wondering whether she was even wanted to begin with. She is standing at the crossroads of life, trapped at an intersection filled with yellow lights. There are no arrows suggesting which way to go, only a sign that says "Danger:Proceed with Caution". There is no traffic cop to guide her. She is alone. Her passenger has since abandoned her, just as everyone else has. The one person who stays by her side is the one person she won't stop being mean to. The life she has lived thus far has turned her into an unpredictable woman with outrageous emotions hanging by a nerve ending. she is bitter, resentful, and dwells on the past far more than is healthy. Maybe that's her problem. Maybe if she let the trailer off her car, that weight that is holding her down, she'll be able to cross the intersection with the right turn. Her only problem is this: where's the latch?