When you’re in a bad mood, and just want to listen to some music on Pandora, those random commercial breaks with those fucking irritating happy voices just make me want to stab whoever invented commercials on the internet.

It’s when my sickness is REALLY bad at the beginning of the day and then….goes away later that pisses me off. I missed school today, causing me to miss a really important performance in my Theatre class. Probably pissing some of my classmates off.

I feel TERRIBLE about it. I couldn’t so much as STAND without falling over and feeling like I was going to hurl. There was no way in hell I could have performed. Just ugh. They’re not going to understand.

^What I look like when I’m ranting and switching between my emotions. Dx

I AM allowed to be stressed, and cry from frustration. Just because I’m “only” seventeen, doesn’t mean I’m not stressed. I’m stressed as hell. Not only am I failing two classes, both essential to graduate, I also can’t get a job. I know. That sounds like something from a teen that doesn’t try. But I actually have. Multiple times.

I need to go get my food handlers permit to even TRY and get an interview, and I can’t even afford to get the food handlers permit, so I can get the job, to get me money to buy gas to get the job. -_-

Also, contrary to my dad’s belief. I get it. Gas is like liquid gold and is as expensive as hell. I am VERY aware of how much gas I use and how much it will cost to fill it up. I can’t help that my school is seven miles away and that my friends are even further. I don’t even GO to friends that much. If ever.   Like….I really. Really don’t. I went to my friends houses twice this week. Twice. (That’s a lot for me, I generally don’t go at all) and now I have used a bit too much gas to get me till my dad’s next paycheck. And he let me know it. Well.

If I didn’t know shit before, well I know everything now. So thanks. Thanks for reminding me that having a very minimum social life will kill you’re lack of money that I’m WAY MORE AWARE OF THAN I SHOULD BE. I KNOW I need a job. Every time I ask you for money I NEED I feel terrible. I hate it. And the second I DO get a job, I will NEVER ask for money again. Unless it is absolute necessity.

I fucking hate how money LITERALLY controls my life. It’s a fucking. Piece. Of. PAPER.

Not to mention, food here is lacking. Greatly. I need gas. And like I said earlier, I need money, that we don’t have, to get money that I need. It’s sad to know that I, as a seventeen year old, actually NEEDS a job JUST to get to school. Most kids I know can ask their parents for twenty bucks whenever the hell they want to go to the movies. And here I am. Living off ramen, and getting into big arguements over the fact that I went to my friends house and because of that won’t have enough gas left to get me to school till next pay check.

The next time a teen in my school wants to bitch and moan about how they have it so hard, and their dad didn’t get them the fucking red sports car they wanted. Well go talk to someone who actually gives a shit. I would LOVE to have a car that wasn’t made in the nineties and has things breaking every other day.

So go eat your own shit for all I care.

Good night to you all.

Why they hell can’t I grasp an opportunity to talk to a guy!?! I’m so retarded!!! He was just standing there! It was like he was WAITING for me to say hi to him, and I just walk pass him!! HOW STUPID CAN I BE?!

LKAF;DLSKFJ;LASDKFJAL;SDFKJ ADKF!!!! D<

I’m so mad at myself. I’m histarical right now.

If I don’t talk to him the next time I have THAT big of an opportunity, I will seriously hit myself repeatedly.

But then you read them all in less than 30 minutes, and STILL complain about never updating. ^^;

I need to finish writing my fan fiction. ._.

Writers block can suck my dick!!! D< (If I had one…)

(As I’ve said before…) *coughs*

*tosses computer out the window*

So I think I have finally hit my boiling point. I REALLY want to move out of the house. It’s not because I hate my family, it’s because I HATE all of the constant fighting. Whenever my dad is home from work, he thinks that it’s just his fault for the fights. Fuck. He’s not home most of the time, and he doesn’t have the slightest clue as to what it’s like when he’s NOT here…because he’s NOT. HERE.

I was going to go for a drive in my car to cool off, but life’s a bitch and my car wouldn’t start, so I had to unfortunately come back into the lions cave and listen to the fighting again. I hate it here. I’m seriously sick of all of the fighting, and I just want it to stop. No one is allowed to voice an opinion in the house ,because it’s a fight. Don’t EVEN get me started on how my 9 year old brother thinks he’s some sort of God and can get whatever the hell he wants. That little boy will actually ATTACK people because he didn’t get his way. Then he’ll have the nerve to apologize, and quite literally do it five minutes later.

Is it so wrong of me to want to get away for a little bit? My dad thinks I just want to get out of the house. Done deal. Period. I hate you. That’s NOT what I want to do. I need to get out and breath. Thanks to the way I’ve had to live my life, I didn’t have a normal child hood. I have a psychotic brother, who is now in a house for mental people, and thanks to that, when I was younger if I went to a friends house, I’d come home, finding five new bruises all over my mother and other brothers. My dad has to work nights for better pay, and thanks to that, I have to be a second parent. It’s beyond stressful.

The worst part, is that since I want to move out, I kind of need a job, but this fucking economy won’t let me. I’ve been looking for a job for months, and I haven’t even so much as landed an INTERVIEW. No. I’m not being lazy, not even my friends can manage to get a job. It’s fucking ridiculous out there.

I want to get out. But I need money to do it. If I DO move out as soon as I’m eighteen, my dad’s going to think I hate my family. Which I DON’T. I would just honestly wish that everyone in this house can learn to NOT fight. Every minute of every. Damn. DAY. I lock myself in my room, because I have no where to go, and I hate the tension in the air. It’s enough to make me crazy and want to throw up. My car hates me, I don’t have money for gas, and all of my friends live like…seven miles away…

Call me a little whiny bitch. I really don’t care. You don’t live my life, and you DON’T know what I have to go through. Thank you my close friends who actually DO care, and are willing to listen. I would have called them ,but today happens to be the 4th of July and the last thing I want to do is bug them with my personal family issues.

Happy 4th of July. *crawls back into a hole of extreme stress and tears streaming down my face*