fuck this day. fuck living my life. fuck crying all day long and wanting to die.
My sister graced us with her presence today, long enough to tell us that her children have been taken away, rummage through my entire room and all of my belongings looking for something to steal, drink half of my bottle of Captain Morgan without my knowledge and completely ruin any type of "christmasy" atmosphere that we had tried to manufacture.
I instead spent the day screaming, yelling, trying to make sure my shit didn't get stolen (I'm sure something did) and avoiding all human contact. with anyone.
My nephew called me bawling this morning telling me that he had no christmas and santa didn't come, and it just continued downhill from there.
Now, at 5:42pm, I'm going to drive my waste of fucking oxygen drug addict sister, who decided today was an awesome day to tell us she had cervical cancer (LIE) home, 40 fucking minutes, with no exhaust hoping I don't get pulled over and taken to jail for having no insurance, and then drive 40 minutes in the opposite direction to get Danielle's best friend so that I can try to salvage any bit of a good evening for my little sister, who also spent the entire day upstairs in her room bawling, wishing she had a normal family. THEN, come home, take a shower, get dressed, and drive 30 minutes to Matt's house, to try and cheer myself up.
Merry Christmas.
I wish I was dead.
1 comment:
No, you don't. If you were dead there would be no hope for being my mom's favorite daughter. I'm sorry your Christmas was full of so much bullshit, if I could've given you my Christmas...well it wouldn't be much to give, but woulda been yours my lady love.
PS-Tina needs help. I will give it to her in the form of your mother's medicine, if you know what I mean. I'm talking about violence if that wasn't clear. Okay.
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