Thursday, November 27, 2003

Happy Thanksnothing.

It's thanksgiving today and I could care less.

I don't like to eat food too much any longer. I only eat it when I'm hungry, I mean, isn't that the purpose of food? To keep you alive when you're hungry and weakening. Exactly.

I probably won't eat anything all day, then eat what I feel like eating when it's time for our big dinner. And I'm not going to eat to the point where I'm so full. I hate that feeling.

I'm not exactly in the best mood right now.

Yesterday, before I was going to Ryan's, my Dad comes up to me, "We don't even like the person you're becoming. We don't like what you're becoming. We don't like how you have utter contempt for us. You just have contempt for us. And you don't even do anything in the house, not even lift a finger. You need to get a job Monday..."

And on and on. This conversation really bitters me. I thrive on encouragement, not discouragement. And it's just the way he talks to me. I hate the way he talks to me. I can't even begin to explain that.

I'm also going to have to go to church on Christmas. Don't want to do that either. I told him that if I actually had faith in God and I would worship him, I wouldn't go to church to do it. I'd do it on my own time. I hate organized religion. It's so silly to me.

I might be sleeping over at Ryan's tonight, or I might leave with my grandparents and get the hell away from my Dad. I don't want to be around him, I'm not in too good of a mood as it is, and he only brings me down it seems, always telling me that I'm terrible at the times when I don't even feel anything he says I feel.

I am just sick of getting yelled at. It does nothing, other than just make me more and more bitter towards everything as well as declines me from my feelings that I'm having then. I just can't stand being yelled at all the time. And I shouldn't even care. I've been being yelled at forever by him daily.

In my house I have to clean my room daily, and I've been doing this daily. He still yells at me for that. I also have made my bed like I'm told. I get yelled at for anything he can possibly think of it seems, nothing is ever good enough for him.

He sits here and tells me I do nothing to help around the house without being asked. What else do you expect? I don't take initiatives. I do what I'm told if it's actually logical.

I used to clean the house every week, but when I asked him why he didn't have me do it this week, he says, "You don't do good enough of a job." Sure. Then why even have me do it in the first place, and why bitch at me to do things?

I don't even think my Dad is the source of what I'm feeling. I actually don't even know what it is. I just feel frustrated with everything.

My conversation with PT last night didn't help anything either. I don't come on the internet to be bithched at and told I'm full of shit and that I'm useless and so on. I come on here to waste time, talk to people, be cheered up, just escape from the crap that PT was discussing with me yesterday.

The thing is, being on the computer ends up just making me more bitter and mellow and docile and melancholy, and I don't know why. Probably because I feel infinite guilt for never doing what people expect of me. And what I expect of me.

PT is a good guy, but he isn't a good one for comfort. Plus when our egoes go where they go, it's not pretty. I guess I just won't talk to him when I'm like this.

As for me just bitching and moaning in here...what less do you expect? It's a blog. It's for a catharsis. If he wants to hate my My O, that's his problem. Not mine. This is my little sanctuary, and most should know that by now.

As for my humor, if it's weird for the sake of being weird, then it is. This is who I am. Hate it or love it. It's your choice. At least be polite about it, not turning around and saying, "You're full of shit, no offence [sic]." It's rather enlightening, I'm sure. Pff.

In the end I'm just blaming people for how I'm feeling. As I said, PT is a good guy. I just don't like talking to him like that conversation went.

In the end the reason I'm depressed or whatever you want to call it is because of me. And I accept this fact. I'm a narcissist, and I guess that shows it.
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