Feely feeeeeeellllls

psssst ahm feelin better. I just had a lot of junk I needed to vomit out some place, so all that stuff was written like, in the middle of ugly-cry self-loathing angry at the world time. I just needed to get it out, cause I don't really have any other outlet cause I'm butts at confronting people about my feels and resolving problems and such. *throws confetti*  So yeah, totally okay if ya want to skip over the last post if you don't want to be all bummed out and junk.

Booop, just read over that last post and indeed a lot of that is just me making myself feel shittier so I can feel better.
Like yeah, take the angriest stuff and cut that out and you might be closer to reality. Expect for the stuff about jude cause fuck jude man.

Well aside from those two days with Aidan these past two weeks have been pretty much constant mediocrity and shit. It's made me feel stupid, socially inept and like no one could give a rat's fucking ass about me. When I try to do things with anyone I either get no reply or they've got something better going on. Sure some of that is bas luck but the rest of it is just a huge middle finger. Trey is such a cunt he plays sweet and nice and then pulls these fucking stupid "jokes" that are seriously the least funny thing I've ever been put through. No, asking multiple times to find a girl to have threesome with you, despite my giving you a fuck load of reasons, why I'm not down for that is not fucking funny. Telling me you've moved is not fucking funny, playing with my emotions is not fucking funny and if I had more people who wanting anything to do with me I wouldn't talk to the stupid fuck any more. And then of course Jude comes home and literally, physically pushes me off the computer because she can't wait two fucking seconds for me to get off and that's just the final fucking straw so I ran outside and cried and I still want to cry and I still want to beat her stupid, pretentious, fucking fucking skull in with a rock because fuck her and how much she's fucked me up and how fucking broken and fucking sociopathic she is and she makes me feel so stupid and fucking powerless like there;s nothing i can do to change these shitty circumstances and evrything just sucks so fucking much and honestly it's a fucking wonder I'm not suicidal because i seems like that's just the answer the universe keeps trying to give me and I just don't even know what to do because shacker I'm worthless and I ruin all my ralationships by being a stupid second guessing gullible over-attatched shit head and I'm just so fucking done wiwth being tossed aside by everyone like fucking trash. It'd be great to feel like I'm not second rate in everyone's life but who am I kidding I don't have any way to find that out, because whenever I try to gt anyone's attention they either ignore me outright or tell me I'm stupid for feeling like shit so I'm just gonna keep typing and crying because I can't do anything else and i have nothin else to do excep clean shit because that's all I'm good for and I'll never have real plans or an actual purpouse and I'm just gonna be stuck working shitty fast food jobs for the rest of my life with no friends and people just using me for sex and the occasional emotional validation though I don;t know why people even want me aound for anything but sex because apparently having a tight vunt and giving head are the only things people value in me. And I want someone to tell me otherwise but i'd just be forcing them to anyway so what's the point. I  an;t een tell what wrong with me to fix so I can be a  person people actually want to barond . At therapy todya my therapist asked if there was any reason why no one ever wanted to talk to me and I couldn't think of one thing and she thinks that I put out sex stuff to too much and that's why I have shallow menaingless relationships where the only thing I have to offer is sex and I don't see why I can't do both but I gues that's just fucking stupid of me for thinking and I feel so sad and I just want Jude to realize how muchthat hurt but she won't because she doesn't care aout me t all a lll and any I try to do do to tell her about how I feel I feel she'll just just throw back in my fack and make me feel weak and stupid and paathetic  and oh my goshdljfjkk i can't stop crying and everything hurts and I just want it to stop but I can't stop crying because I can't and I guess this is what I get for thinkign that I could without fucking medication because I'm tooo fuckied up to be able to have normal brain fucnctions even though nothing really bad has evr happened and I get sent over the edge by a few bad jokes and my sister being a dick like she always is, like seriously this is nothing new, this every day of my life I should just be fucking used to it by now n=but look at me I have to over react to everything I guess I don't really have anything fucking valuable left to say but I don't know what else i can do beside sit here and feel sorry for myself

Backpack

One of the best things that calms me down is packing up a bag. It's like a safety line. It's there just in case things get worse and I just can't handle it any more. I pulled out my worn and patched up green back pack today. It's fabric is scratchy and smells like freedom to me, like lichen, dry and dusty and cool. I slunk from my room, silent, and gathered up my sketchbook, my car keys, and the colour embroidery thread I needed for a project. I packed them away with my favorite Lovecraft anthology. I grabbed a tin of unicorn bandages and stuffed a tube of Neosporin in with them, this seemed like a good idea, just to have around, like the little tube of tooth paste, and the chopsticks my best friend got me, with porn on their tops. In went a little towel, while I've never read hitch-hikers guid to the galaxy, I read a lot about back-packing across countries, they give the same advice. I paused at my medication. Did I put it in? Even if I wouldn't likely be leaving tonight, if ever at all? But I erred on the side of caution and put them in the full front pocket. I grabbed a pair of comfortable shoes off the floor, and my Andrew Jackson Jihad shirt from the bed. It felt more than right to bring that band along. I wished for my cut-offs to complete the look, but they were upstairs in the wash. In went my old gameboy as well, with Pokemon Silver and Zelda: Oracle of Seasons, for variety. A gift card, a few other odds and ends, then I looped the necklace scout gave me, the one with the skulls around my neck and I was ready. But I didn't leave. I sat and I looked at the time. It was almost time for work. I needed to eat, and my anger and my bitterness had calmed down, for the most part. I ate leftover rice, then shouldered my pack, laced up my work shoes, and climbed out my window.

I've always made up runaway bags, ever since I was a kid. But I've never run away. Because I wouldn't know how to come home, and my problems were never permanent. But I feel like I should have. I wish I would have. Would have done something to protest against my mom and her instability. My therapist says I should take some kickboxing or martial arts classes so I can have an outlet for the anger and the rage that's been building up in me for years. It's a good idea. I can't really contain it lately, and I'm worried I might do more than just dig my fingernails into my skin the next time I get angry. Which will likely be soon, considering my mom has nothing but how shitty a kid I am to pay attention to any more.

I Shouldn't be Suprised

I go upstairs to get something to eat and my mom tells me that she's going to put 50 dollars into my account for grocery shopping. I had been talking with my therapist about how I feel like she's controlling me and trying to keep me from making mistakes when I move out and I just want her to leave me alone for fucks sake and let me fuck up if that's what happens. If you're gonna teach me anything fucking teach me how to do banking. I literally know nothing about banking and yet you want me to work on my budgeting skills. It would probably be great to know how to access the money I make before I try to budget it. And budgeting is something I can figure out on my own, jesus fucking christ. She's upset at me for just spending money on groceries well it was your fucking idea to make me buy them in the first place. You didn't give me a limit then, you didn't berate me about how I spend too much money then, but you are now because you want to make up for your shitty parenting in these last few months. I try to tell you that your inconsistency has fucked me up and what do you say "it's hard for me too :(" it's not just FUCKING hard for me mom. I can't be comfortable in my own fucking house because I literally never know if you are going to be angry with every single thing I'm doing or take me out for fucking ice cream. I am constantly on edge. I run out of the kitchen when the garage door opens, I hide in a corner of my room when you come downstairs. The only time I'm fucking comfortable is when you're not fucking home. You're so upset that I don't know how to budget money even though I've never fucking done it before so I shouldn't know how to budget. How about you buy the fucking groceries, how about you don't try to shove me prematurely into adult hood when I'm 17 and still living at home. Oh, it's too hard for you? Isn't everything just soooooo hard for you. Nothing could possibly be hard for me. You don't stand your ground with your kid and try to defend your shitty actions that i am trying to tell you have had a deep and scaring fucking psychological impact on me. You don't tell your kid that what's ruined my self confidence and my ability to be in the world without hating myself for not knowing what to do before I should is "hard for you" I don't fucking care. You say you're trying to budget money and yet you want me to take more expensive voice lessons and all this other bull shit and I just fucking hate you and I cannot wait to get out of this house out from under your itchy trigger finger so I can finally breath an independent breath without you shitting down my throat because that breath cost too much.

frvfhph[ jpshwvcf8ef sed8hg uswec8j hjhnsdc9jiuqws9dccfwd9jh bw9ievh jdis91d8cw fdxjiquhcnfucking shit I am so fucking angry and mand and I jsut want to fucking BREAK SOMETHING. FUCK.

"Working"

So I think my meds are working. Or "working" rather. They seem to only be helping in a few small areas, and even then it's really not much help. It seems to have gotten rid of a lot of my lethargy, I want to go outside and work in my garden or sew or something. But it just seems pretty mindless to me, like I'm going through the motions but it's not actually engaging? But that might just be how flat my emotions have gotten. Sure I don't get depressed necessarily, but I can tell when I would be depressed, because I feel nothing. I feel listless and misplaced, like I'm floating on the surface of a flat grey ocean and while I'm not drowning I'm still not dry. Other than that I'm just angry. A lot. Everything pisses me off. I can't stand being around my mom because she makes it flare up the worst. She just stalks around the house with too much free time on her hands since Dave broke up with her so now she's not working but still on his payroll until she can find another job. She's decided that since I'm no longer in school I can't possibly have any reason to be depressed so she's "cracking down." In other words being un-godly obnoxious with her constant hounding me to do petty inane tasks and gift unto me all her untold wisdom of how to do literally anything and everything. All she's doing is making me want out. It's really funny, actually, because she always said she was afraid Jordan and I would leave and never come back. I don't know in what context you tell that to your ten year old but by golly she told us all the fucking time. And now, that's what she's making me want to do. Not leave all the way, I don't hate her, by any means, but I just want her to get her fucking talons out of my life. She always brags about how she isn't a helicopter parent, how she has other important things in her life aside from her kids, she's not like all her friends. The only difference is that she doesn't see it. She doesn't see the way I cringe every time she says she wants to talk about her ideas for San Fran (don't care abbreviating it like that is insulting, san fran can suck my cock because it's bullshit to type out all the time) because that just her into into "Here's how I'm going to tell you what to do with every aspect of your life from how you grocery shop to the furnishings of your bedroom!"I just want to get out there, take her pile of fucking annoying ideas, and hurl them into the bay. She wants to raise good kids? Well in my opinion she's already fucked that bit up, but she needs to let us go to see how she's done. I just want to stand on my own, I don't care how scary it's gonna be. I want to fuck up grocery shopping, I want to accidentally blow all my money because I didn't manage it right, I want to realize that my interior decorating is fucked an inefficient (Fat chance of that though, I'm the shit at organizing shit.) But she's not gonna let me. She's hung so much of her own validation on my success that she can't bare to see me fail, because to her that means she's failed. But part of me wants to fail. Part of me even knows I will. Catastrophically. It'll be devastating. It'll fuck me up for years to come, but it will have been my fuck up. Mine. No parenting can save kids from fucking up, just by having a kid you've already doomed them to being scarred and fucked over by your parenting. Pity my mom refuses to see that, that she's fucked me up. I don't care that she has, but she needs to stop trying to put a big over-attentive bandage over it and pretending that anything she's doing in these last few months is actually going to help me in anyway.

See? Angry. And alone. I know I have friends. But most of the time it feels like I don't.