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Feeling: Calm. Loving my life. |
Eating: Um... life?
Wearing: Jeans, black tank top with built in bra, lavender panties, eith a little sleeping kitty on them, my claddagh, green choker and matching earrings, contacts, vestiges of the day's make-up, black belt.
Listening to: *Hummmmrumblerumblerumble* It's my washing machione making contented noises.
Chatting with: Keeping my own counsel.
Thinking: "I need to concentrate on my posture more."
Remembering: Dave's tongue ring.
Glad for: My ability to move past fear into growth.
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Today is: 2002-12-14 - @ 5:02 p.m.
DOn't fucking look at me like that, he choose his alienating ways. all time - is relative
Well. Things rapidly got worse in my family life. I woke up this morning to being told by my mom to get in to the frontroom and grab my robe and glasses. So I do, still half asleep, to see my dad sitting in the computer chair and my mom sitting on the futon crying. I choose the futon and wait, the quiet before a storm. It comes almost immediately. It is almost amusing, everything my dad accuses me of, he is guilty of himself a thousand times over. Being selfish, not being compassionate, being uncommuncative, not listening. I nearly want to laugh at the absurdity of his accusations, but the room is very very somber. Laughing at a funeral. Mine. Anyways. I sit there, and taking my mother's advice, just blocking him out. I don't really have a choice, it is ethier that, or have him mock my tears again. Don't ever mock my tears, if you value your relationship with me. He doesn't seem to believe me that I want things to be better, that I want to go to counseling. He for some reason thinks that I enjoy the current state of affairs. 2.15 years. I am going to work as soon as possible and saving up my money, so on February 23, 2005, I am gone. Not even a goodbye if I could help it. I know my mom won't be far after me. We both nearly left today. Except he would do everything in his power to make life a living hell for us. And he has the money. But I will leave. I will. He will be alonely, bitter old man. Very lonely.
Quote for the Entry: "...to them, listening was a time to think of what you were going to say next." -Terry Pratchett.
How incredibly appropriate. My mother said something, and he just plowed on, complete ignoring her point, which was extremely valid and important. I am trying really hard not to hate him. It would just make things harder.
all time - is relative