Liz, yo (oulan) wrote,
Liz, yo

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A little story

So there I was, sleeping soundly... couldn't have been much later than say 9/9:30 this morning... having BEAUTIFUL dreams of Kaidoh or Toshiya or Luc or something... and I was disturbed by the most blood curdling voice I have known thus far in my life. It didn't come in so clearly at first, being as it was I'd only gotten 2 or 3 hours of sleep... but soon the gay-ass lisp trudged through and I knew it at once as the ever-annoying voice of my ex. First thought through my head: "Now... I don't REMEMBER us having speaker phone... .NO!" And I sat straight up in my bed, slamming my forehead on the bars from the top bunk.

I remember yelling out "What in the FUCK is he doing here!?" and my mother came in with the most appologetic expression I have ever seen plastered to her face. At that moment I knew that I hated that woman. There is NO POSSIBLE WAY that a true blue mother would allow someone she KNOWS causes her eldest child mental, emotional, as well as physical pain move back in here... yet... Aren't mothers supposed to look after their kids first? Or has the human race evolved to the point where its everyone for themselves... including the parents? Three words: I am sickened.

PLUS. The very first thing Will did when he got here was hand out gifts. He's looking for pity, simpathy, ANYTHING that's not seething hatred... and I tell you, he's not getting it from me. My sister says she's selling the books he gave her... god bless her soul. If there's anyone in this house I can count on, it's Stephanie. Charlotte was wavered by a fucking pack of cigs... and that kind of gives me a plan. Hmm... Yes, and I walked around all morning with a scowl to kill and I didn't even need to say anything to anyone for them to understand. This is my home. This is my family. Just because my mother has a "heart of gold" doesn't mean I'm about to forgive and forget.

And then, here's the really funny part, I sat in my mother's room waiting for her to take a nap so I could get onto the computer... and the bitch hands me a bottle of diet coke and says its for letting him come back here... Oh yippy skippy! He gets away with months of physical pain and torture, and I get a bottle of diet coke. I think we're pretty much even on that front, ladies. Now if only I had balls for someone to kick... or a wound for someone to pour salt in... or hey, even a gaping hole that runs straight through my body that someone can run a hot steel rod through... oh the visuals that accompanied that one...
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