With the simple question of when we’re are eating, my mom has this magical ability to drag me out of the GREAT mood I was in and bring me to the point where I am yelling at her. Congrats mom. I shouldn't really be surprised that my happiness wouldn't last long, like seriously, why would I deserve to be happy. I also realize that my grammar and usage of words sucks when I am mad. Do you really want to know why I was so mad, then happy, and now mad again?? Well it all started yesterday… this is the point where fog is suppose to come across the room from god knows where and enchanting music is suppose to play, but remember, I am a broke high school students, so I’ll just use a bunch of those star things.

*                           *                           *                           *                          *

So there is this guy... that's how most diary entries start I guess but... He goes went to a different school then me (now he is in college). But anyway, he is friends with my cousin and he is really cute and his family is really nice. Anyway, I knew him through my cousin so yesterday; we went to see him play basketball. He is a freshmen and starts for his team... whatever, he is a good player and has a nice three point shot. So I am really excited because I like him and I knew that I would probably get to see him after the game. So we go to the game, sit with his parents, his sister, my cousin and his family, and my parents. So the game was going great. He was hitting almost every one of his three point shots and he played most of the game. By the fourth quarter, the other team was catching up... I don't really know why I’m telling you this because it doesn't really apply to my anger but it’s good for setting the scene for later. So with one second left, his team was down by one point, the ball is passed to him. He takes a jump shot, and as the buzzer rings, the ball bounces off the rim, and doesn't go in. he was obviously upset because he lost,

         After the game, everyone waited around for him, I was excited because I hadn't seen him in a while. We waited, and waited, and waited, and I was starting to fear that my parents would want to leave before he came out. But they stayed. By the time he came out, my parents were off getting a drink. I was standing with his family and my cousin. He comes up to us, gives everyone else a hug and thanks them for coming… except me. Now I have been to his house before, I have had dinner with him before; I use to go to his high school games, we know each other well enough that he could at least said ‘hi’, but no. Nothing. I just stepped back, I felt a bit awkward, I got a knot in my stomach. I felt a bit embarrassed… It was one of the most uncomfortable situations I have ever been in. By this time, I just wanted to get out of that damn gym and back into the car. We finally left, I put on music, and I cried for about 20 minutes on the way home. Plus, the roads were dark, winding, and there was a shit load of fog, so my anxiety was through the roof! By the time we got home, it was pass 11 and I just wanted to go to bed, so that is what I did.

So that was tragic story number one. Ready for tragic story number two? This one just my daily life… it’s called coming home every day. No I realize that, compared to many, my home life is not that bad. But to me, it is hell. I sometimes stick around school for as long as possible just because I don’t want to deal with Sue. Sue is my mom; I have lost all respect for her, so usually I do not even refer to her as mom when I talk about her. So today when I got home, an hour after school gets out; I asked my mom two questions. Question number 1: What are we doing today? Usually the answer to that is nothing. And question number 2: What is for dinner, now this one is where things get interesting. It is rare that she actually answers me the first time I ask the question, so I ask again… the answer I get is “um……..” as she continues to type on her computer… so I ask one last time… “I was… um… I was thinking…” and then she will get side tracked again. It is the same thing every single day. She is like a child, you have to keep her focused on the question, or she will not answer. Sometimes, after minutes of thinking, she will finally blurt out an answer. However, today, like most days, I just walked away in frustration before she could answer, a decision that ends up being a bad one. I went upstairs to my room to escape to the internet and music.

             

            I come down at around ten after six and asked when we were eating. My mom told me about thirty minutes. That would put us at eating at around 6:40 for those of you who were too dumb lazy to do the math. Now keep in mind, I have to be at choir rehearsal at seven. I start getting annoyed, and before I could say anything that would get me in trouble, I walked away. At 6:45 my dad came upstairs and I asked him when we were eating. He told me that we could eat right now. We both went downstairs and my mom started getting all mad because I had to be somewhere at seven and that my dad and I wanted to eat without my brother. I started getting mad because I was starving and I just wanted to eat before I had to go. I asked her once again what we were having and she finally answered me, pork chops. I hate pork chops! You will never get me to eat them. So this makes me even angrier. But then I realize that there are a bunch of vegetables also so I was just going to eat them. My dad suggested that I have soup but it was going to take too long. Then, wait this is the best fucking part, my mom is all like “Oh well this isn't done. It needs like another 15 minutes!” I start flipping out! I am just like “Well maybe if you started it fifteen minutes earlier then it would have been ready! You knew I had choir at seven and you knew that I would want to eat before I go!” She tried telling me that if we ate any earlier that my dad would not have been done exercising. That was just complete bullshit but whatever. So I end up eating like three spoonfuls of soup because by the time I heated it up I had like seven minutes before choir started.

            I got over to the school and honestly, I am surprised I did not break down. I was close many times. Thoughts of running away raced through my mind. I just did not want to go back to that house. The pain that it brings me is unbearable. That is why I am so eager to go off to college. I never want to come home every again, and who could blame me? I am under appreciated in this house. I have a brother who is just a few years older than me and it is obvious that he is the favorite child, even my friends have commented on it. He never gets yelled at and never has to do shit around the house. My parents try to deny that they favor him over me but it is obvious.