NOV 26 2024
Hi Neocities. I'm not exactly doing the best. Yesterday, I went skating with my grandmother. It was fun, and where I live, skating is a big sport. Sounds good, right? It was. Because my grandma isn't a fucking asshole, my dad is.
She was tired after skating- mind you, she's young, only just turning 50- and told my dad she couldn't take me to school this morning. My dad decided the absolute best course of action was to yell. He always yells. It's normal for him. He went on his usual routine of saying I hated him, saying I was disrespectful, equating my happiness to bugs, nothing out of order there. But then, he had a bright idea.
He brought out divorce papers, the ones settling custody between him and my M.I.A. mother, giving him full custody. He forced me and my sister to hold the papers while he yelled so that we'd know it was well within his rights to do so.
He told me it was my fault. He was most likely referencing the messy room, but it wasn't explicit, and when you're getting cursed out at six in the morning and being forced to hold custody papers, you start to feel like you're a bigger problem then you're being told you are. He kicked my stuff around, slammed my doors, all that jazz. He said the f-word around 27 times, and lectured me for around twenty five minutes.
I was crying a little bit indoors because of those damn papers, but he just guilt-tripped me until I stopped crying. At that point, I was wearing an old work shirt and some jeans, and some winter boots. I already looked like a hobo. But now my hair was messy and my face was wet and my makeup was smudged.
It was embarrassing to walk outside like that, honestly.
I sat by the mailboxes, hugged myself, and sobbed. I guess I just didn't have the balls to take the punches like a man. Metaphorical punches, of course. He wasn't *that* mad.
Despite everything, the bus came. Obviously it was late, it almost always is. But at least I was able to sleep on the bus. It's better than pacing in front of mailboxes with thin tears running down my face like a faggot.
My friend, Audrey, is moving. I'll miss her. My music homework had the copyright "1999. Eric Harris, All Rights Reserved." I was... confused to say the least.
I made a post on 9chan about it, but that site is PRETTY dead so I most likely won't be getting much help. Maybe I'll turn to 4chan.
I was taking a nice little nap on a bigass drum in band class, when this bitch and a half Kaley pulled it out from under me and said I needed to keep my hands off the drums. I hope she trips on the stairs.
My balls hurt. My pants are too tight.
Passionately, Michael.
