Auugh.

Auugh. So this particular entry is gonna be quite short compared to my other ones. I just really can't get how I feel into words. Even to describe it to myself. Ever get like that?? Well, it sucks. Basically, I'm being yelled at for EVERYTHING at home. And I mean EVERYTHING. Seriously. My sister's headboard won't fit properly on her bed so my dad has to cut it down and he cuts it wrong: My Fault. The waterbed isn't draining properly and so it took all night to fully drain: My Fault. My mother's pants are on the floor in her room: My Fault. 

It's really getting to the point where I'm getting pissed off. And, of course, I tell Justin these things because who else can a girl rant to if not her boyfriend?? And, thank god for me, he's a natural psychologist or psychiatrist or whatever you want to call it. He's that. Seriously. Bring him ANY problem and he'll come up with some fucking amazing metaphor or something that just tells you what's wrong or what you need to do or what others need to do or whatever you need. He knows. Even if it's some problem that he could never have experienced, he knows. He's literally a genius. It's too bad in order to be a psychiatrist you need like, 4000 degrees. Otherwise he'd be going to school for it. The day someone decided the requirements for psychology is the day the world lost a great psychiatrist. 

But anyways. I tell Justin these things and he talks to his parents. I wish I had that kind of relationship with my parents. Imagine, actually being able to TALK to your parents without them fucking yelling at you every third sentence. Justin's mom says that if this kind of stuff keeps going on, it's only a matter of time until I snap. And before, I was kind of like "Uh-huh. Yep. Ok sure, whatever." But now, I can see it's actually happening to me. I'm crying WAY more often than I was before. I can actually see myself deteriorating. But you know, my parents really aren't helping. It really doesn't make you feel all warm and fuzzy inside to be told what shelter you're going to be brought to if you do one more thing they see as wrong. Shocking, you say?? That can't be true, you say?? Au contraire. I shall be sent to the Choices Youth Shelter on 59 Town line in Orangeville, Ontario, Canada. (519) 942-5970 in case you were wondering. Comforting, isn't it?? 

But Justin won't let that happen. He's so . . . . sweet. Really. The first time I told him that he said to me: Can I call you back in 5 minutes?? I said sure and when he had called me back he had already told his parents that if I ever needed him, EVER, he was to be excused from whatever he was doing so he could come and pick me up and bring me to his house. And his mother is so nice. She invites me over there or sends Justin over whenever she can because she knows I can't stand being in this house alone with my family for much more than 24 hours. I really owe so much to them. And she's always asking how I am. Really. So sweet. 

And I've been this close [-----] to getting kicked out so many times. Threatened, more like it, but anyways, the threats work. But I know one day they really are going to kick me out. And when they pick up the phone to call the shelter you know what I'm going to do?? I'm going to grab the phone right out of their hands and I'm going to call Justin. Then I'm going to walk out of the house and wait for him at the end of my street. I even packed a bag two weeks ago because I thought I was going to be out of the house by the end of the week. 

Auugh. That is literally how I feel. Auugh. Actually, I've written way more than I thought I was going to originally. This blogging stuff is really good for writing it all down. I could keep on writing for like, two hours but I should probably get off now. If anything happens, I'll let you know.

So sweetly she bade me adieu,

     I thought that she bade me return.