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I don't know what to do anymore...
I don't know what to do anymore... I really don't... You have something to say about anything and everything about me, from what I like to what I do to what I wear. You are the one who always used to tell me to be myself, no matter what anyone else thought or said, because that person was a wonderful person... but I guess that doesn't apply to you when I become someone that isn't what you had in mind. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate being here, I hate being around here, I hate having to swallow my pride every damn time I see you because otherwise I'll get backhanded across the room (and deserve it, even though it needs to be said) if I open my mouth. You only focus on the bad of the situation, never how much I'm trying to change, to suit YOU and what YOU want and what YOU need. I'm tired of standing there while you rip at me until I can't control my emotions anymore and I'm crying. You wonder why I'm never home... it's because of you. It sounds bad to say it, but I've come to hate you, almost as much as Ray. You're just as bad as him, I can see how you two ended up together. He hurts and scars people physically, you do it emotionally and mentally. It amazes me sometimes how you don't see it, how much of a... b***h, you're being most of the time to me. It just really hits me in the face sometimes, how I'm not your daughter. A piece of paper isn't enough to prove to me that I am the spawn of you and him; I don't understand how you can do some of the things you do if you love me and I am truly your blood-child. You let me forget it sometimes, don't you, just to have something to rip out from under me; Cassie is your daughter, your beloved, your one-and-only. I'm not your daughter. I'm not your friend. We are barely acquaintances. And I'm getting to the point where I don't even care anymore... I don't want you to know how I feel this deeply, because I don't think I could survive if you did. I don't want to try to 'fix' it, because all that ever is is me apologizing for being a teenager and who I am and thinking what I think, swallowing my pride time after time when it's not me who should be swallowing my pride. I'm tired of pulling the meek act whenever you get mad to avoid your fury. I'm tired of it all. I shouldn't have to do that. I should be able to ask a ******** question without you flying off the handle. And you should be able to keep your word for at least half an hour. But apparently neither of us can do either of those things. In a way, I have to say you are lucky. You have had me stuck in this hellhole away from home long enough that I've put down a few roots that will hold me here until they leave. Otherwise, I would have been gone a long time ago. I would have just picked up, and left. I have enough knowledge that I could evade the cops long enough to get somewhere useful, maybe. I'd bike if I had to... Anything, anything to get away. Cassie would be better off without me around anyway. She hates it when we argue. There's one thing gone. I'd be less of an influence on her. There's another. She wouldn't turn into a metalhead or a gearhead or a gothhead, three things I know you loathe me transferring to her. She wouldn't become a whore, as you've said I am. There's only one thing keeping me here, and you're damn lucky he's still here. The minute he ships off to BASIC is the last minute you'll ever see me again. I am over it; I know it could be a hell of a lot worse, but it could be a hell of a lot better. I'm trying to put my life together; let me do it in peace. I don't care if you have a constant compulsive urge to listen into every conversation I have, quit it. You always hear something wrong and then make poor judgement off of it, nine times out of ten at my expense... and you can't even be bothered to apologize when you find out what an a** you've made of yourself. The whole ******** situation today could have been avoided if you hadn't been listening into my conversation with Cassie and made assumptions. You wonder why I get pissed off when you promise me something (usually a small something... like driving to the animal shelter for you) not ten minutes ago and then throw a b***h fit and act like it never happened. No, it wouldn't have been such a big deal, if this wasn't the last ******** day on my ******** permit that I could drive. Yeah, it pisses me off a little. I can't drive anymore, until I'm 17 now. And you've been adamant about not allowing me to drive ever since you found out that I couldn't get my license after I finished the class, that I'd have to wait until I was 17. I don't know what the ******** deal is, but I don't care. I'm not going to make the mistake of asking you the question to get bitched at again. I'm tired of getting bitched at every single time I ask a question... whether that be why we keep going to one place we don't usually go, or asking why you might want me to drive because aren't we almost there, within a few blocks? Every question I've asked in the pat two weeks has brought you down on me, and then you've flown off the handle when I make the observation that I'll stop asking questions because aparently I'm not supposed to. I don't know what to do around you anymore. But I am really sick of all this. I can't wait for school to start, I'll hardly be home anymore: between school and VoTech and work and my friends, you won't see me till 11 every night. You know... I hope you're happy with the bed you're in the process of making, because pretty soon, probably sooner than you think, you're going to have to lie in it. That day can't come soon enough.
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