Like rubbish stuck in a pipeline, this is the same for my life...
I admit that I'm not having a good time living.
Number one. I'm having breakouts. I don't know why. I exercise, I avoid oily food, nuts and I wash my face regularly. Still I have breakouts. Hormone problems? Fuck hormones! Fuck it!!
Number two. My mom is prying into my life. I need and want her out! I wanna move out. With some total strangers- it wont bother me if they're a srial killer. That might be good. =)
Number three. I feel like a tub of lard walking around. Like Frankenstein. Everything about me doesnt seem good to look at.
Number four. I'm losing faith. I won't be out of my religion. I won't let theat happen. But I'm losing myself. I'm drifting like a restless soul. I cannot find peace even in the things that I like to do.
Number five. My mom's overly ridiculous behaviour that my dad is seeing another woman simply because he 1) doesn't switch on his handphone, 2) doesn't answer one phone call from her, 3) comes home five minutes (literally) later than usual, 4) finishes his money in a day or two after she has transfered some money into his account. These are four out of the hundred ridiculous reasons she can think of. I am not kidding about the number of reasons. I'm too mad to recall anymore. Even if I do, after listing all I'll end up on tomorrow's papers cover page. And a ticket to hell.
Number six. My dad's all-negative-look at life as a whole. E.g. He can never be out of debt. Another: He blames his employer for promoting new workers and raising their pay instead of his. 3) He is right, he knows what is good. "Either listen or I'll flare up."
Number seven. I'm feeling claustrophobic.
Number eight. I know that I'll disappoint all, including myself, at anything I'll do- getting good grades, getting good job, getting into a good school, counting on a shoulder to cry on, etc.
Number nine. I cannot get my registers right. My notes and keys are often off despite my best attempt to do it right.
Number ten. I'm happy and problem-free on the outside. The happier I look, the more I'm withdrawing from myself.
Number nine. My MOM IS STILL IN DENIAL THAT I'M HER SON (OR IZZIT DAUGHTER?). WE HAD A TALK THE OTHER DAY AND SHE WAS OPEN ABOUT IT. SHE TOLD IT OFF. SHE WANTS ME TO BE MORE MANLY. BOY, I HAVE NEVER TRIED THAT IN MY LIFE ALBEIT THE CONSTANT NAGGING. =)
Number twelve. My time is coming. I can tell. =)