May 12, 2003
the people who you expect most from let you down the most...

My father is a self centered, arrogant prick! I hate him!

I spoke to my father on Saturday, thinking that the bastard will be happy to here from me, but no, he started laying into me saying that my job isn't good enough, dissing my flat and basically making me feel like a total fuck up!

The last time I spoke to him was at the beginning at of the year, he phoned basically to tell me to appolgise to my mother (who insulted me over the phone in November, I hung up on her). I refused.

So anyway, stupid naive me thought it would be a good idea to phone my dad to try and resolve things. This was quite possibly the worst idea I've ever had in my whole entire existence...

I mean how dare he expect me to apologies for the fact that he's a fuck up of a father! Is it my bloody fault that I want to spend Christmas away from them? Is it my fault that they didn't bother to see how I was or phone me on my birthday?

Is it my fault that I choose to leave home because things where getting outta had and that my mother is a psychopath and is the type of woman that wouldn't hesitate to throw a show at me.

Is it my fault that day after day that I was told that I wasn't good enough and I'm a failure and I'm useless.

I don't know why I bothered really... he wants me to say sorry for being me, for being myself, he wants me to say sorry for the fact that I didn't turn out to be he wanted to me.

Well I tell you something, he's a lame sorry excuse for a man, I pity him. It's his loss and my mothers...they can't accuse me of trying.

Arrogant fuck wits...

I honestly thought it would be a good idea (I'm getting really repetitive now aren’t I?).

It seems the people who you expect most from let you down the most...

So after that delightful conversation I cried ad I cried and I cried and I wallowed in self pity... I cried so much that I tired myself out... I woke up and I went to the shops and I spent £30 on groceries...I ate and I ate and I ate.... I puked and I puked and I puked... I cried some more because of everything, I began to think that I was a fuck up... I ate and puke some more.... I was meant to go out on Saturday... I couldn't be arsed.... I couldn't sleep... it was 5am till I got back to sleep.

I woke up at 10 am and watched shit on TV all day... I also watched Cheech and Chong’s Up In Smoke (that is one mental movie, two hippies trying to find some dope and end up going to Mexico and smuggling in a van made of marijuana, yeah I know....) I stayed in my Paul Frank PJ's until 5pm where I decided to have a shower and put on a clean pair of PF PJ's.... ate soooooo much Macaroni cheese (packet stuff) that was sick again... cried a bit, read a bit.... cried some more and before I knew it, it was 12, I was watching A Time To Kill for the 100th time....I got a message from Ben seeing how I was, sent him a 'I feel shit type message' he phoned to see if I was alright.... I told him why...he said that I should go over... so I did and he listen to what I had to say... let me cry some more and he told me what he thought without taking sides.....he's good like that.

I feel so much better for it now.

But I'm hurting right now.

yesterday - foreverdiv>