my sisters asked what happened, and i let out my fury on them. they told me i didn't mean what i said, and that i was just speaking out of anger. it was true, though. if she doesn't change her ways, when i move out, it'll be the last time she sees me.
i distracted myself by listening to my angry song. i was interrupted by my one sister, who gave me the only therapy she knew, and we went into the backyard for a cigarette. i don't smoke, but i knew that it was a better alternative than brooding. so, i pushed my rage aside and went outside. i fought tears really hard, but a bare few escaped.
i sat outside, i smoked, and i went back inside. i went into my attic. it's the one room i the house that no one else goes into, and so it's my safe-haven. i needed to distract myself so that i would calm down. i hooked up my xbox and played for about an hour, when the phone rang. it was my dad, and he wanted to speak with me.
my dad is a good person to have on my team. he's intelligent and very persuasive. he understands me. he asked what had happened. (i assume my mother called him and told him what had happened.) i told him everything, and upon recalling the events, began to cry. it wasn't, isn't, fair. i told him that i didn't want to be victimized anymore. he understood my point of view, and knew that i understood my mothers, and so wasn't just complaining. i had a case, and he would talk to her about it.
i resumed playing for the next few hours without pause, when i realized that i was hungry. i went downstairs, and made myself a sandwich. my sister said that she spoke with mom, and that she would talk to her later about it.
mom thinks she deserves respect because she's my mother. she's mistaken; why should i respect her when she doesn't respect me?
this is most likely going to be an ugly, tense week.
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