| Current mood: |  sad |
when I knew I had to face another day lord it made me feel so tired
I feel so uninspired. Today was a sucky day. Last night was a sucky night.
My dad told me to do the litter box last night. He's obsessed with it. He seriously has an OCD about many things, and this is one of them. So, I said "Yeah, sure." I don't do things right away. Especially when someone tells me to do something in a nasty way, like he did. So I went upstairs, because I hadn't seen my mom all day and I wanted to talk to her. So we were talking and my dad comes in and he's like "I TOLD YOU TO DO THE LITTER BOX!" He was going wacko over the litter box. So, I was like "whoa, I'll do it." or something liek that, I don't really remember. And he's getting really angry so he starts calling me a "Fucking asshole", " a fucking jerk." Yeah this is gonna really make me go downstairs and listen to you and do the litter box. I'm starting to cry now. I can't stand it anymore. I say that all the time, but I really can't stand it. Then he's like "I wanna hit that girl!" to my mother and she's like "Don't touch her! Don't touch her!" So he's coming around the other side of the bed trying to get to me to hit me. My mom blocked him. So he started hitting her. He didn't beat her, but he hit her. I would have rather have been hit than my mother. So then he stormed out down the stairs yelling curses about me and my mom. So, really I didn't feel like waking up today. I don't really feel like learning about cytoskeletons and shit like that. I don't wanna have stupid conversations at the lunch table about stupid things. I want to just go somewhere and be in peace. And I want to take my mom with me.
I woke up today and didn't think about the night before, because seriously, it's a normal thing around here to be called an asshole by your father. Then I get to school, and I'm in Biology class. I hate Biology. Hate it. With a passion. And my teacher says, "I'm handing back the tests and I want you to figure out your percentages without a calculator." So, we get our tests back and I got a 38 out of a 40. Good, right? Yay me. So I figured out the percentage and I got a 83.6%. And I knew that was wrong, but I honestly didn't care. I didn't care if I knew how to find my percentage without a calculator. I just wanted to get through that period and the next and the next... and go home. So she comes around and she sees mine and she's like "What the heck are you doing? What the-?" I'm like, "uh, oh it's...um..." "You don't know how to figure out a percentage???????! Do it over!" So I did, I did it a different way, and I got 95%. I knew that was right so I raised my hand. "Got it? How did you do it?" "I multiplied---" "Multiplied?????! That's the last step! This is 4th grade math here! What is your problem??? You don't know how to do percentages????" "I don't know how to explain it." I did know how, I just didn't know how to explain the way she wanted me to. And she's like "The difference between you and a hamster is you can communicate." Is that really what I wanted to hear?? After being called a fucking asshole, stupid daughter by my father the night before??? No. I hate this teacher. I hate her. And then she continued yelling at me but I don't want to think about her anymore.
I went to Eckerd's after school to see my mom. She's like, "You don't feel good?" And I said "Yeah." I'm tired. And not just physically. I feel really low right now. I'm sick of school. I'm sick of people who pretend to be my friends. I'm sick of my father. I'm sick of trying to look good in the morning. I'm sick of living right now. I want to relax. I want to go to an island. Ah......yes. Jamaica, mon'. I'm trying to keep my spirits up. I keep telling myself things will get better. How long am I gonna have to lie to myself?
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