Mum's a cunt
She goes away for a week of frivolity with her neurotic boyfriend in Virginia Beach. Leaves the house in my care. Of course this happens to be the one week I was sickly and fatigued. Couldn't be arsed to go to school the first half of the week, missed the second half as well thanks to my mom not being able to explain the overly intricate workings of her fucking atomic alarm clock.
Naturally I fell behind in school, which has only exacerbated my already impoverished performance in class so far. On top of that, I was obligated (admittedly to myself) to decorate the place for Halloween, and in the course of the week, coughing and drowsy, I managed to carve four medium sized jack-o-lanterns and stretch some of that awful, cotton, faux-cobweb crap around our balcony.
I depart with my friends for the weekend, not willing to wait around for my mom's return at whatever ungodly hour. I come back on sunday, not a word between us beforehand, and what does she do? She fucking yells at me. For what? Leaving the front door open after I arrived...
"Now my gas bill is gunna skyrocket" was her well-played attack on my innocent mistake. Not a "thank you" for looking after the house while she was away having the shriveled member of her sexagenarian boyfriend continually inserted inside of her, for attempting to care for her ill-mannered dogs who, despite having not been fed for a few days, managed to muster up enough feces to defecate on the carpet numerous times (moments before I was about to let them out no less). No, not a single fucking kind word, even though I did what I could with what little energy I had.
She continues to probe me...
"Did you walk the dogs today?"
"No"
"Of course not..."
"Why are you doing homework? It's almost 1 am!"
"I've been doing homework for a few hours, mum. Its not as if I just started"
"You stayed home all week and you still have work to do?!"
"Yes, mum. I've been sick"
Despite my attempts to explain my qualms to her, no matter how valid, she just shrugs them off as "excuses". But of course she can't just let out an agitated sigh and return to her musings, no, she has to dig into me because she's malicious and combative...
"Ugh, you can't handle living on your own. You have no sense of responsibility. I will be so glad when you move out because I can't stand you. Neh neh neh. Blah blah blah."
I always try my best to respond calmly, or not at all, to these little outbursts of hers, but I was quite fed up. See, for the last couple weeks my fuse has been significantly shortened for reasons I can only deduce have something to do with my pent-up emotional trauma. I responded with an angry, booming "Oh, fuck you. Shut the fuck up and leave me alone" and proceeded to explain to her that I'm sick and tired of getting shafted by her over such small things. She tore into me, saying how I left the place a "mess", and I admit that I am a bit of a slob and did perhaps leave a few plates and cups around and some scattered papers, but hardly a "mess" (I will be kind and chalk this up to her ridiculous standards of cleanliness). She also blamed me for her technological ineptitude and told me it was my fault that she couldn't get the computer working when she got back. This made no logical sense as it was working fine when I left, and I refuse to have something so petty included in her onslaught on me. We had the usual quick, angry back and forth, she delivering low blows in a sad attempt to "win", and me taking them on the chin and refusing to recant for the things to which she overreacts.
A lull in the argument, and she comes by like nothing happened all jolly and friendly and gives me a sugary "goodnight" and retires.
W.
T.
F.
I need to get the hell away from here. I can feel my repressed rage bubbling underneath it all and I swear to god one of these nights I'm going to snap and go on a bloody rampage.
