Fuck. Fuck. FUCK.

I'm SO tired of my parents. Every goddamn time I'm the slightest bit irritable they pile on me instead of trying to be considerate. I'm SO mad at them right now. Every fucking time I get mad at them, they're like "Is it because of the Zoloft?" "Is it because you're off the Zoloft?" there's no fucking way I could get mad at them because they're being asses, of course.

My mom asks where Teddy (my sis's dog that they love more than me) got this one toy. I say my sister's boyfriends' family. But of course, since he has two families, I get chewed up because I'm not specific enough. My dad hounds me about it, and won't let it drop. My mom joins in.

Then they wonder why I get upset about it. "Is it going off the zoloft?" No, I fucking quit it like a month ago, and last weekend, when you jerks were actually acting decent for once, I was fine. So I do tell them the reason. "I'm a bit peturbed," I say, "ever since I was told I have to be scoped, and the subsequent arguement where you made me cry, mom."

"Oh, I'm sorry. I thought you were over that." God, I was until everyone started picking on me about where a DOG TOY CAME FROM, you assholes.

then, of course my sister didn't know about any of this, so my mom told her about what had happened. Then, she starts telling my sis about what a jerk I (IN HER OPINION) was to the dr. about the scoping.

then, I say I wasn't a jerk to him, and of course mom says I was, and the whole other arguement from before starts up again. Finally, I'm like, "You know what? Let's just drop it. You made me cry last time." And she was like, "No I didn't, YOU made yourself cry."

You know, if I fucking wanted to make myself cry, I'd be even more fucked up than I already am.

So we start arguing over whether or not she made me cry. Over whether or not she made me cry! God, I just want to be left alone at that point.

So I went to my room in the middle of this arguement, and slam the door (which I haven't done since junior high) and sit in my room.

When I leave to use the bathroom, my mom comments, "The dog (also visiting) doesn't like it when you shut yourself away in your room."

FUCK THE DOG. I'M SICK OF THE DOG. People love that dog more than me. They love a DOG, more than me. It's not even their own dog. I wish I were that dog. Then people'd love me. Then I could do whatever the hell I want, because whenever he does anything wrong, "he's just a puppy and doesn't no any better." He's an okay dog, but they love him more thgan me. They love Apolo Ohno, someone they've never met, more than me. Do I have to become a world class speed skater for them to watch me when I open my damn birthday presents? God, now I'm sobbing so hard I can't even type anymore. They've gone to farm and fleet, and i'm here with the dog. Maybe he'll love me.