Topic: { * eVerythiNg * }
Mood:
Now Playing: A lack Of Color -- Death Cab For Cutie
I still feel like sh*t -- but I'm OK with that. Death Cab is an ESSENTIAL part of Chrismukkah. (And why do some people spell Hanukkah "Chanukah"? There is no "CH" sound in Hanukkah, people!!) According to me, Coheed & Cambria are essential too. I just don't have any of the CDs yet.
I should get a yarmaclaus. (Yarmalke + Santa hat ... very interesting.) They're so great. (Monica wears a yarmalke on Hanukkah! LOL Tiff.)
OK. Enough Chrismukkah. On to Christmas Eve. Oh God, Christmas Eve. I have realized there is no way I can avoid Pennsylvania this year. It either invades my bed (damn my uncle) or I get sent there for three days. I don't know which is worse. I can handle Brittany for a day. I can handle Aunt Susan. I can handle all of them. But my uncle and his girlfriend ... well no, I like Pat, nvm. Just my uncle. And it's not even that I dislike my uncle. It's that the whole atmosphere in the house changes when my uncle and my dad are in the same area. I hate it. Everyone either gets really redneck or really ... opposite redneck, what I like to call Victorian-ish. Usually it's my mom's side that gets Victorian-ish and my dad's side that gets redneck. Although Aunt Susan has her moments lol.
Grr and darn it. Ocean Avenue won't play. Stupid AOL.
Anyway. This sucks. Xmas sucks. My f*ed-up family sucks. I hate my dad. I hate him with a passion! Well, not always ... sometimes there's just the vague feeling of utter loathing. But still. He's ruining my life. What am I talking about? He's ALWAYS ruined my life.
But being the secretive, quiet, sneaky b*tch I am, no one knows what I'm talking about. I've got a crazy idea to tell the whole thing and see how many people tell me how sorry they are to hear that. By the way, I'm not sneaky or secretive. Just a quiet b*tch. Story in a nutshell: Until we moved, when I was like twelve (I think I was twelve), we went to this Baptist church where absolutely every kid there my age hated me. I know why too. (I was the daughter of that creepy, religious old man. I was one of THEM. One of the kids who can recite whole books out of the Bible on command. THEM.) There were three of the girls who loved to tease me and make me cry, names Christy, Courtney and Rebecca. Laura too, but that wasn't till later. My mom didn't know about this till I was older, ten or so. She told my dad when she found out.
OK, this is longer than I thought. I'm almost done, no worries.
At that point, I didn't hate my dad. I just didn't like him at all. But my mom told me to ask daddy what to do. So I did, being the obediant child that I am. Do you know what he said to me? Of course not. No one else knows this story. He told me to pray about it. Read the Bible more. He spouted off Bible verses, told me to memorize them and quote them to the girls when they made me cry.
Bible verses. Pray.
Yep, any respect I had for him went straight down the toilet right about then. I started hating him. He didn't understand. Oh yes, connected to that story, there's one little thing. That Sunday night, after I went to bed, I started crying because of various things. My dad came in, flipped on the light and asked what was wrong. I was mad at him because of the Bible verses thing. I refused to talk to him. He asked again. I had had it. I screamed as loud I could -- "No one understands me and you don't listen to me!" He slapped me. For being disobediant and disrespectful.
He ruined my life. It was his fault that I never fit in. It's his fault that I'm so f*ed-up now. And now I'm going to shut up before I get any more pissed off and start screaming on here and telling more crap that no one wants to hear. (See? No one listens. I figured all that crap out when I was ten. The only thing everyone is interested in is themselves. They don't want to hear anyone else's problems. People like you if you stay quiet and listen to them. They won't like you if you talk to them. No one understands anyone else. And this, my friends, is the secret to life in my opinion.)