I hated this weekend. A lot. And I've never hated my parents more than I do now. I hope that Sunday is better. Doubt it, but maybe. At least I'll get to talk to Sarah and Esther.

So on Friday, I go to school, have fun, take pictures of people dressed up for halloween. Probably the most epic Halloween I've seen like, ever. I saw Jesus, the Pope, Box man (wtf), Pikachu, Ash, Misa, L (EEEE.), the whole nine damn effing yards. Yeah. Jesus. Win.

So I got into my mom's car in a really happy mood. And I think that we're going to church because praise band practice is at 4:30 and I told her like five million times that I do have practice. 4:30, mom. 4:30.

Except we go to this place in the middle of effing nowhere to get an effing check-up by some Korean doctor. And that man was the rudest doctor I've met. Ever.

"You're too fat. Lose weight, seriously. Your health is in danger. You have to eat exactly what I tell you and nothing else."

Thanks. Just thanks. I know I'm fat, you don't have to stick the word, "too" in front of the damn word. And the arrogant bastard actually gave me medicine. OOOH, like that's going to help my dangerous weight.

Did I mention that said medicine looks, tastes, and smells like headaches and poison? >< I'm not drinking this. It's sitting in front of me. I'm staring straight at death.

We get to church at six fifteen. Mom. 4:30. Practice.

I'm already pissed off, when I get inside the building, Pastor Sam apologizes for something he said to me last Friday.

I hated him for apologizing, even though I tried to be polite and accepted his apology. Just pretend like everything's okay, right? You know, doesn't get people worried and shit. Not like they'd care, but better safe than sorry. But I hated him for apologizing because I didn't want him to remember what he was apologizing for, didn't like the fact that now everyone knows what the hell is going on, and because people don't even apologize to me anyway. I can't believe the fact that he effing remembered. I don't care about what he said to me last Friday, really.

So I went as far as I could from everyone to fall asleep for about thirty minutes. I came back in time for worship, though. And Pastor Simon's messages somehow always manage to make me feel better. Not about myself or anything, just makes me feel better. Even if he's talking about negative stuff, it gets my mind off of...things.

I get home, I sleep.

Saturday morning. Bad mood again. SAT I. Didn't finish my essay, did okay in other sections, except that vocabulary is going to eff. me. over.

So I get in the car with my mom and dad to go home. What does my mom do? She gives me an effing lecture. On how to write the SAT essay.

FUCK. Thanks a bunch, really. What a great way to encourage your daughter and let her rest her mind after taking a really important test that will determine exactly how much she's going to get compared with her near perfect brother.

She doesn't know that there's a time for everything, does she? She gives me baby-talk when I'm pissed off and takes things personally when I ask her for things.

Example.

I asked her for a dog once. She asked me this:

"What? Am I not good enough? Do you want me to die or something and just have fun with your little dog?" She almost threw me out of the house. I was in fifth grade.

The fuck?

When I started walking around with a huge stick (I had just watched "Prince of Egypt" XP This was back in the day), she took that personally, too.

"Did you know that people who walk around with big sticks like that are either really old or their parents are dead and they're wandering around. Do you want me to die? Is that what you want?"

I was in the car with her another time, and she told me to get out of the car because I was such a bad daughter. We were on the freeway.

What kind of mother laughs at you when you're honestly pissed, but screams at you when you make one little mistake? Honestly, guys, if I ever take a gun to my forehead and pull the trigger, it's because of exasperation, not because of depression.

She also tells me shit I don't care about or doesn't tell me shit that I need to absolutely effing know. Like where we were going on Friday.

I mean, I don't expect her to know everything, but she's known me all my life. She should at least know something about me, neh? Maybe I'm still going through puberty. =__=;  Damn adolescence. I'm still an immature brat, then.

I go home, fall asleep. Wake up at like eight. Bad mood. Lauren calls, her happy rambling takes my mind off of things, makes me feel a little better.

Mom and Dad come back home. Mom wants me to eat for once and take my medicine. FUCK NO, I'm not eating. I'm not taking that medicine, either. It smells like death and I'm not going to believe my mother's and grandmother's lies that it tastes really good.

I can't tell my mom to her face that I seriously hate her right now. I've hated her for a while, but she's my mother, you know? I can't just...you know. Because 1) that's completely messed up and 2) it'll make her lose face within the church. I can't just run away, for the sake of my family's fucking reputation.

Whew. I don't feel like anything's been solved, but I feel better.

Neh...only a very few people actually looked happy to see me on Thursday. Brady gave me the fakest smile I've ever seen. A toddler could have seen through the insincerity. At least I know who my real friends are. Sure as hell don't miss anyone else.

No one at Cypress gives me fake smiles except for people I already knew before going there, except for like two friends from elementary school. And seriously, Courtney Llaban gave me the best introduction to her friends. Ever. I felt like I belonged for once, neh? I've never really had that "I seriously, honestly, completely belong here" feeling before. I'm happy at Cypress.

But I really do miss people at Oxford. Trust me, I do. Just not the majority. I can't get Brady's insanely fake smile out of my mind, the up-and-down looks I got from her, the way they averted their eyes when they saw me. Oxford was probably the hugest source of misery I've had in my life after...after he was killed, you know? Hell, I'm probably not ever going to visit Oxford unless someone I truly miss is there.

And you probably know who you are, so kisses to you~ <3333

EFF I CAN'T EAT SPAGHETTI. WHAT IS THIS DDDDD8 *cries in corner* sniff T^T

...........I hate my brother's drinking habits.