So, I am officially a mega-bitch now, according to my mom. We'll get to that in a minute. I have no school until Friday, which is good. Friday is my last day. I am so glad. I need a break.
I don't really care about my mega-bitch status at the moment because I have an eye infection. This is really nasty, so feel free to skip this paragraph. It thankfully waited until Saturday to show up, and it became unbearable Monday night. My eye was sore and a little swollen, and suddenly a little white thing popped up where my eyelashes are. I didn't touch it, but it disappeared later and left this vomit-tastic gunk in its place. I felt much better yesterday, but I went to the doctor anyway, and I got antibiotics. I always hate going to the doctor because I am a slight germophobe and am disgusted at the idea of sitting and waiting in a room full of contagious people. I mean, no one can get my eye infection unless they're dumb enough to come up to me and touch my eye. (And what idiot touches a random girl's nasty infected eye?) But people can get other diseases by being around sick people who are coughing and stuff...
Had a dream involving FCG a few days ago. The parts with her in them were only slightly weird, but the rest of the dream made no sense at all. Most of my dreams don't. It's been a while since I've had a dream I could remember, actually.
So, in the dream, I was in my house, and for some reason, the exterior was my grandparents' house and yard, even though it was my house inside. I was watching TV, and Mr. Troll had a cooking show on which he was inexplicably dressed in army clothes. But he couldn't cook! The things he made on his show looked atrocious. It made me want to vomit, but I couldn't not watch it. It was like, a trainwreck, or something. I didn't want to see it, but I couldn't look away. Then, my mom came in.
Mom: I found something on the side of the road. I thought you may possibly want it.
Me: What's "something"?
Mom: This. ((goes back outside for a moment, then returns with the "something"))
FCG: Super Duck! :D
Me: It is really a FCG! YAYYY! ((hugs FCG))
FCG: I'm gonna live in your closet.
Me: Okay! :D
Of course she would choose to live in my closet. I helped her move all her stuff into my closet, which somehow grew large enough to fit her and all her stuff in there, plus all the crap that's already in it. Then, we went for a walk together. Alone. Just us. It was amazing. I didn't have to share her with anybody, not even IG! Hahaha. After that, we came back in and watched Mr. Troll's cooking show again. It was on every channel, and we couldn't turn off the TV. There was NO ESCAPE. And then I woke up.
Yeah, my dreams are... Well, they don't make much sense. I don't understand why he had a cooking show, or why it took over TV.
FCG inexplicably added my stupid newspaper teacher on facebook. Great, now she can see where Annoying Newspaper Lady bitches about my class. Just great. I'm always given the job I suck at, and then Annoying Newspaper Lady gets mad when it's not good enough. Has she REALLY not realized I suck at advice columns by now!? Dude, if I knew how to give advice, then I would know how to make myself not fail epically at life! And then I wouldn't be Super Duck!
So, anyway, I have attained mega-bitch status because I didn't get my sister a blanket she was too damn lazy to go get herself yesterday afternoon. Yes, really. And then my mom tried to say later that she didn't call me a bitch, but she did.
OH, AND OH NO THE POOR PITIFUL BABY DEVELOPED A LOW-GRADE FEVER IN THE NIGHT! Let's force Super Duck to drive her mother to Walmart at 2:00 in the morning to buy shit for Golden Brat Child! (My mom had no gas, and I don't trust my mom in my car. She's the type who'll do 30 over the speed limit with a cellphone in one hand and a cigarette in the other. She can wreck her car all she wants, but she is NOT hurting my precious baby Volkswagen Beetle.) Yes, let's stop the universe because the little asshole has a temperature of 99! And not only did we buy medicine even though we had an off-brand at the house, we also bought her a shitload of junk food AND almost bought her movies and toys and shit like that too, but we ran out of money.
And the little brat is TOTALLY OKAY today, but she still gets treated like some fragile princess. If I had a fever at 2:00 in the morning, my mom would probably tell me to shut the fuck up, take some ibuprofen, and go back to sleep. I don't get a fucking trophy for having an eye infection right now. And I didn't get anything special either time I had a kidney stone, for that matter. But we have to stop the universe and go to Walmart at 2:00 a.m. to buy crap for the brat because she has a slight fever.
I am going to be so pissed if no one brings me, let's say, strippers and sushi and 10 gallons of chocolate milk next time I have the sniffles. Blatant favoritism, I say!
In all seriousness, I am actually extremely tired of this bullshit. I want to scream every time I think of my living situation. I gain nothing from having to live with a woman-child and her spoiled hellbrat. That's all they are... I feel sick every time I look at them. A 42-year-old woman who hasn't even attempted to make a living in 17 years and now that she's divorced, simply expects her ex-husband to pay for everything due to her grotesque sense of entitlement. A spoiled 8-year-old with no respect for anyone or anything other than herself. They are pretty much on the same mental level, and they're the only ones who can even stand each other. I ignore them most of the time, but sometimes it gets difficult...
I can't go to my dad, though. He's alright. He really is, but it's bad where he lives too. My grandparents' house is basically two houses in one, and he lives in the smaller half. (Before my parents' divorce, my grandparents would often allow people to stay in the second half of the house because it has a kitchen, a living room, two bedrooms, and a bathroom.) There's a door right before the shared laundry room that closes off one half of the house from the other, but I don't think it's lockable.
I can't go to my dad's house because my grandma is there. She is worse that my mom now. She wasn't so bad last summer when I ran away from my mom due to that weird cult-like phase, but she has gotten worse now. She has always been terribly passive-aggressive and guilt-trip-happy ("Oh, you won't _________, so obviously you hate me and just want me to rot and die of a broken heart."), but ever since I started to drive, it has intensified. I guess she's mad because she is no longer needed to do things like pick me up from school and such, so she has lost any influence/control she could have over my life. She actually tells me that she never wants me to go anywhere in life. Every time I say something like, "I want to live somewhere a little more northern when I'm older," or "I don't like it here," or such, she says that if I move away to a better state and get a good job and get married and have a life and be happy, then I hate her. I usually just ignore it, but I have gone off on her a couple of times recently.
My dad fell for it. He was going to become an accountant or something like that, and he had a 4.0 in college. But then, in I think my dad's second or third year of college, my grandpa broke his foot, so my dad took some time off school to help around the house and stuff. And while he was at home, my grandma started guilt-tripping him, so he never went back and finished college. And he never moved away from this shithole, either. He could've lived in the mountains like he wanted, but he listened to my grandma and believed he couldn't move away. And now he's 43 and working as a handyman for some warehouse, which he hates, and is stuck in the same town he's lived in forever, which he's getting tired of. She has literally ruined his entire life thus far.
There are only 538 days until my 18th birthday. That's a little less than a year and a half. There are somewhere around 750-ish days or so until I get to move away from this town and never have to speak to any of my toxic family members ever again if I don't want to.