Comments on ditsyinpink's Journal

Okay. So I;m in my room minding ym won businees when MOM*says "mom" like it means satan* pops in and says "oh,___(I'm noit stupid enough to put my real name) Mrs. K our old neighbor is here to see the house. Can you starighten up your room so she can see it?" Me:sure... Mom:okay. Amnd she opps out so I clean up a little. my room wasn't that messy and then she comes in with Mrs. K. Mrs. K: oh this is a nice room. Big. Do you like your closet?( my Closet is HUGE!) Me:Yeah. I really like it. But my rom is pink*shudder* Mrs. K :i'm not much of a pink person myself. i nod. I like black. Pink should die! If youy like pink and your starting to hate me, KISS MY ARSE! So my mom comes in and startes talking and sees my computer where I was reading a Harry Potter quiz a moment ago. Mom: This si where she spends most of her time. What do you do really? Do people give you characters and then you what? I was so close to murdering her right then and there. My freakin god can't trust her as far as you can thrown her piece of crap should go to h*&& mother just comes in there and thinks she knows what the crap is going on in my life! Like she actually knows me or cares abput me in anyway. She still thinks I'm five years old the way she acts."Oh, honey how was school? what have you been doing lately? Did you have a good day?" Me:*thinking* what do you care b*^&#? Speaking:nothing mom and then disappear in my room to chill and pretend my family doesn't exist. what she was referring to earlier was my Fruits basket fan fiction story. i used to be obsessed with it like a week ago and i mean I still am but not as much. Now it's just a thing I like. But anyway. That's totally private. I tell people I trust not people who will laugh at me and think I'm weird when I tell them I'm writitng my own version of someone elses stories. That's what friends are for. Mother's or my mother on the other hand, thinks my daughter's strange, but if it makes her ahappy, I might as well tell the entire fucking world about my daughter and her bizarreness. And she looks at me like "what are you doing exactly?" and I'm like *thinking* You ever consider yourself my mother, you will wake up with a knife at your throat. but, I put up a nice frontMe: oh, I'm uh writing my own version of a story." And our neighbor just yawns and then leaves cause she has to go home and cook supper. Thank the good forgiving lord! My mother is such a butt-head soemtimes. She thinks she knows me! That's her main problem. Does she know about how fat I got? About how im' trying to be thin? About how for two weeks I was planning on suicide? How I didn't see a reason to live and was planning on taking a knife to my wrists. I'm one hundred percent serious. I decicded the only reason to keep living was my original story. MY passion, my escape from the crappy fucking peice of shit we call earth and all the brainless morons on it. Not everyonr\e is like that, but no one gets me. No one knew I was gonna kill myself so I started writing. A chance to escapew. to get away from everyting and pretend life was worth living for a few hours. It's not worth living, but I've told my friends. Just 2 of them at 3 a.m. at a sleepover. They were t\wo different sleepovers. The first was my friend who I ahdn't ever really spoken to. I mean really spoken to. about life, lpover, liberty , thoughts. You nkwo girl stuff and the important things. the secong time, I was at my"sisters"hpouse and I confessed at 5 am to the sound of anime in the background. She was scared. For me, and for herself. We are soul sisters serparated at birth, except she got to stay with our real mother and I got stuck with this family. she cared though and so did my other friend and gave me some advice. I'm staying alive now. But only just. i still think about knives. blood, my heart...stopping...never eating again... bloody puddles on the white carpet of my bedroom floor..everyone's reaction when they found out I had murdered myself to escape them. my frinds at school don't get it and probably never will. they're to cynical. or at least a couple of them. the others are immature. they are veryshallow, btu it's not fun to be with them. they're just there. like air, no real reasons to be there. we don't really have anything in common. I don't know why I'm friendws with them. I guess it's just nice to listen to them chatter at lunch and not be alone. I should die though. I wisj\h it sometimes and then I pray. For help and relief. for nothing. and everything. and darkness to keep myself sane. or insane. anything but this.