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01 January 2002 @ 01:42 pm
I hate to say this...  
But I need to go back to school. Or get out of the house for a really long time. Say, seven hours? Eight hours? Because if I'm around my father for too long, I really start to hate him. And we argue. Except, as usual, it's just me arguing, because he doesn't notice. So then I get really pissy and anxious and I cut. And, instead of cutting because I'm nervous or scared, I'm cutting because I'm angry and that makes it more violent.

Ah! Jesus! He's made himself into a fucking cleaning machine. He's cleaning the damn oven now. And he wants me to start cleaning my room "a little bit every day". Ok, here's my response: fuck you. I'm artistic and I'm mentally ill (and not taking my pills, thankee...), so no shit I'm messy. Do not treat me like I'm five years old. If I want to clean, I will. When do you come up to my room? Two minutes every school day to make me wake up. Does it bother you so much? I live up there!

Oh, this is so stupid! Ahhh! This is the dumbest thing to be getting mad about and all I want to do is go cut something. I want to throw up.
 
 
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