All About G

Honestly, I can’t tell which feeling is worse: being called all sorts of names, or being called all sorts of names by someone who was supposed to be your closest friend.

I’m not going to bother talking about exactly what the fight was over; that doesn’t matter. It usually doesn’t.

Her final words to me were “U are all full of urself. U only care about u and only u. You have to demand everything from everyone. Im sorry that the world dont revolve around u and im sorry that you think ur shit dont stink and im sorry that your a self centered cunt this is the worst you have ever gotten grow up and look at urself for a change ur not all that hot and not everyone wants your nasty ass sorry.”

I think more than anything, I’m furious with her. I don’t know why it took me so long to see everything. Looking back, I realized that my friendship with her wasn’t really a friendship so much as it was me bending to her every whim and letting her walk all over me. Every time she’d ask for a favor, I’d help her without hesitation. When I had first received my driver’s license, I shuttled her to and fro; so much, that my dad had to draw the line, forbidding me to be “the cab driver” for my friends. Whenever I confronted her about one thing or another, she’d turn it around on me and make it my fault for whatever it was. If I got mad at her, it was my fault.

I kind of wonder if she ever noticed when I stopped being open with my life, when I stopped telling her things. I knew that it was fruitless to try and get any kind of support from her; whenever I’d come to her seeking a comforting shoulder, her sympathy would last about five seconds before she would launch into her own world of misery and drama. I never told her how I felt that she didn’t care about me at all. Instead, I played the role of obedient friend and listened to her woes, gave her advice when I could, and backed her up with most anything.

At first, when I had received that text, it hurt. Slowly, over time, however, I’ve grown completely outraged. Not because of the text itself, because of the fact we we have known each other for nearly ten years. We were supposed to be best friends, and yet it’s like she didn’t know me at all. And maybe that’s my fault for never telling her anything. I thought she was more observant though! I can’t believe she didn’t realize that whenever I compare myself to another person, it wasn’t “I’m so much better than them.” No, it’s more like “I wish I was as good a singer as she is,” or “I’ll never be on his level at soccer,” or “Kimmie’s boobs are bigger than mine,” or “I can’t get myself to look more adult like Kasedy can” or, “I’m not as good as this person” or “I wish I was more like this person”. Hell, I didn’t even need to compare myself! “I hate the way my legs look,” “My hair’s too frizzy,” “I suck at this and that”, “I can’t do anything right!”

I wish I was prettier. I wish I was smarter. I wish I could compete on their level.

How? How is that egoistical? How am I being full of myself?!

It was the “you’re selfish and no one wants you” thing that really got to me. I’m selfish, yet I put aside my own happiness and quietly suffer, just so I could focus more attention on you? I got into trouble with my dad numerous times over the car, because I would lie and use it for taking you places instead of wherever I said I was going. I stopped bothering going to you for consoling; instead I bottled up my pain so I could try and heal yours. I would give you all kinds of advice, I listened to every one of your problems. I comforted you when you needed a shoulder to cry on. I kept every last one of your secrets (though I can’t say the same for you and my secrets, thanks for nothing), and I will keep them till the day I die. For God’s sake, Kasedy, I stood by and said nothing, NOTHING, when you and Steve were dating behind your mom’s back, and hung out at my house! In front of me, where all I could do was just watch you and the guy I liked hang all over each other and kiss each other and tell each other how much you cared. And I hated you for it, but I still didn’t say anything, because you were supposed to be my best friend. I cared about you and wanted you to be happy because you were someone important to me, even if it meant sacrificing my own happiness. And all that, all of my unwavering loyalty, to the point of allowing you to treat me like shit, makes me selfish? So what is it, I wonder, that I’m supposed to do to make you take that back. Shall I kill myself? Take a bullet meant for you? Am I supposed to just shut up and be your slave? Treat you like the queen of the world?!

And you know, the thing that was drilled into my skull the most during that high school drama? Yea, it was “Nobody’s going to side with you, because nobody cares about you.”

So thanks, Kas. Thanks for telling me how you’ve felt over all these years. I should’ve realized it sooner, since it’s what you say every time we fight. I can’t believe I was so stupid and naive and thought you, of all people, could be considered a friend, you know, someone I could rely on and trust. I can’t believe I wasted so much of my life being your bitch, babying you and taking care of you and making sure that the world paid attention to you, because you’re SO worth it, right? I can’t believe I LET myself give you chance after chance after chance, ever when it was obvious that it wasn’t worth it.

I’m even more angry with myself, for being afraid to ditch you, because I didn’t talk to or hang out with my other friends all that much. I was afraid of rejection, and sometimes, I still am. I even let your words get to me! “Do they really care about me?” I’ve always pondered this, ever since I ditched my so-called “friends,” and made real friends. Logical me knows that they (meaning my present friends) do, but the rest of me, the loser, insecure me stoops so low as to question it. Because of what happened in high school. And now, because of you.

So here, I’ll be so kind as to do you a favor. Since I’m such a narcissistic bitch, how about I just cut you out of my life for good? Besides that, you’re a waste of my time. I’m better than that. Good luck with that baby, I’m sure you can find one of your friends to help take care of it (or take care of it for you, since I can’t fathom you being a RESPONSIBLE HUMAN BEING). And I’d wish you luck with the rest of your life, but I’m pretty sure that even my blessing wouldn’t be enough. Was that self-centered enough for you, or should I try harder? You’ll have to let me know, KASEDY, since I don’t know if I’M MEETING YOUR FUCKING EXPECTATIONS!!!

Comments (2) Feb 11 2010

Stfu. Mom’s going to sing at the very tip top of her lungs and if you have a problem with it, then move out. It is her house after all, so there.

Actually, this goes for anyone else complaining about her singing “being too loud” when you ALL scream and yell through the house when SHE’S trying to work. Fuck you, go kill yourself, fuck off, and stfu. If you don’t like Mom’s belting, leave the god damn house, and fucking move out. SOME people actually NEED to move out too, so there. Bring it up to her again and you’ll be answering to my FIST. Well, more like my verbal bitch-slapping powers. Either way, you’ll feel broken on the inside when I’m through.

Comments (3) Sep 03 2009

… Because you sure as hell aren’t getting one.

You know, after this and this and this, you would think that my parents, especially my dad, would understand what I think about them and their god damned assumptions. Well here’s a little refresher course since you’re obviously too senile to remember what I tell you.

You may have given birth to me and you may have raised me from the first day, but that doesn’t mean you know everything about me. You, mom, may be able to psychoanalyze me half the damned time, and you, Dad, are just a plain old asshole, but what the hell makes you think you can figure out my exact motives? Last I recall, NEITHER of you could read my mind, so how about you stop acting like you can before you start, and I won’t have a reason to even be tempted to punch somebody. (Maybe I’ll just go back to slicing up my arms in fits of rage; it’d be a little less harmful to others.)

(Before I really get in to it; I should inform you that this blog post is more directed to Dad. At least Mom has the brains to shut the fuck up and drop the subject)

For your information, I wasn’t being nosy, like some people are (Like oh, I don’t know, DAD). I heard my baby brother screaming outside, and I went out there to joke, to poke fun, because I thought he was randomly yelling like usual. So I went outside and randomly yelled, because I wanted to have fun. And when I heard him crying instead, the FIRST thing I thought was “I’m gonna have to smack someone around, aren’t I?”

First off, Dad, what gives you the right to tell me not to protect mymy little brother? Unlike you, I’m not a nosy little DICKHEAD who has no life outside of manga, anime, caffeine, motherboards, and sneaking buying/smoking packs of cigarettes behind everyone’s backs thinking that the rest of us don’t actually know he’s doing it (BECAUSE WE’RE TOTALLY AS RETARDED AS YOU, HUH?). Another thing; I wasn’t going outside intending to play the parent. I stayed outside because my brother was crying and something was wrong, and I just so happened to be there and I’m his big sister who can protect him every once in a while. I was actually INTENDING TO BREAK JONATHAN’S NOSE SINCE YOU REALLY WANT TO KNOW SO BAD.

YOU FUCKING ASSHOLE. You scream at me for “treating him like crap.” Then you scream at me for being a good big sister and looking out for him. So what the fuck is it that you expect me to do!? How about I pretend he doesn’t exist? Like he was never born, and that he’s not really my brother, but some kid that just lives here? Every time you want me to take him somewhere, I’ll just say “I can’t. He doesn’t matter to me.” Or would you rather I just continue to hate on him and bully him like Jonathan? You immature, STUPID little man. Get it through your thick skull: I may have several common personality traits, BUT I’M NOT YOU. I’m a HELL of a lot more responsible, mature, and intelligent than you’ll ever be. And fuck you. Next time I hear Ricky outside crying, I don’t give two shits whether or not I’m his “father” or his “mother, or even his fucking GRANDMOTHER; I WILL go outside, and I WILL see what’s wrong, and I WILL beat the shit out of his little friends if the situation calls for it, because I’M HIS MOTHERFUCKING SISTER AND I HAVE AN OBLIGATION TO WATCH OUT FOR HIM, YOU FUCKING PRICK!

You are a thickheaded asshole who doesn’t know how to fucking listen and the only thing you’re good at doing is acting like the whole fucking world is AGAINST YOU, which is probably WHAT YOU WERE DOING EARLIER TONIGHT WHEN YOU POINTLESSLY BITCHED AT ME! DO ME A FAVOR AND GO FUCKING KILL YOURSELF OR SOMETHING, AND SAVE ME THE TROUBLE OF DOING IT MYSELF!

I’m not in the wrong for this one. You and your assumptions, however, are. For the last time, stop assuming that I’m that much like you. I have NO intentions of taking your father job away (though I guarantee that if I did, I would do 10x better than you could ever hope to do), but I have every intention of sticking up for my brother even if that means I have to supposedly “butt in” when you do ALL THE TIME, and UNNECESSARILY TOO.

So, yea, I hope you aren’t expecting an apology, because you don’t deserve one. FYI, I’mreally tired of your bullshit. Who knows? At the rate you’re going, I really will hate your guts. Congratulations. I hope that’s what you were trying to accomplish all these years; to be The Biggest Asshole G’s Ever Known in Her Entire Life, because you did a damned good job. For the record, I really do hope with all of my being that I don’t end up parenting my kids the way you have so far and especially recently.

Comments (2) Aug 04 2009

I’ve been keeping my mouth shut more or less about this whole issue, save for the moments when I actually say some. But seriously, Mom, Derek; Kimmie is right when she says (more or less) that you two are being way too rough on Millie, and you both should stop practically beating the crap out of her. Derek, especially you. I don’t really care how you’re “not too fond of cats”, but that doesn’t mean you have to take a broom and beat on my cat like she destroyed the kitchen or something.

It’s not even her fault. YOU’RE the ones who don’t cover up the food like sensible humans would in a house with animals. It’s a given fact; if you leave food exposed, an animal, dog or cat, WILL go and eat it. You STFU with any bullshit on your dog being “well-behaved”, Derek, before you even SAY anything. He definitely stole food AT LEAST ONCE IN HIS LIFE. In the meantime, cover up the food, RINSE OFF THE DISHES instead of being all hypocritical “oh you guys NEVER rinse anything off” bull crap, and thus Millie can’t get to the food, no matter how much she tries. At least she’s not pissing on the fucking counters, you idiots.

Secondly, Millie is old. She is old meaning that she’s not young, meaning that you all can, one of these days actually kill her. Did you ever take that into consideration.

Finally, and most importantly, Millie is a cat, but she is a living breathing creature. I don’t give two fucking shits if you’re “disciplining her” or not, you are abusing her. I don’t see you taking a broom and beating one of us, therefore you have NO RIGHT to take a broom and beat her. I bet neither of you would like it if I took a broom and smashed your faces in, now would you? Now take that, and multiply it by 20-50. That is probably how Millie feels, you assholes.

DEREK especially; you keep telling us to get to the dishes before you “kill Millie.” I don’t care if that’s not literal; IT’S FUCKING WRONG, AND I DON’T FUCKING APPRECIATE THE FACT THAT YOU BEAT THE CRAP OUT OF MY CAT FOR DOING SOMETHING YOU COULD HAVE EASILY PREVENTED. Next time you do it, maybe I’ll beat the shit out of YOU with a broom or a bat, SEE HOW YOU FUCKING LIKE IT. I swear to fucking god, if I find out that Millie ends up dying because of any one of you and that fucking broom, I will take that broom and fucking break your faces in with it. Take that broom and shove it up your fucking ass.

Comments (4) May 06 2009

Since you’re too much of an immature asshole to wait for me to reply to your 10-year old-like outburst, I’ll say what I have to say here.

You said I “threw a compliment back in your face”? How the hell is “why do you wear such skimpy clothing?” a compliment? You implied that I’m trampy! And, for your information, I’m definitely NOT FUCKING TRAMPY YOU ASSHOLE. Oh, and in case you didn’t get it the first time, I DON’T wear “skimpy clothing”. The clothing I wear is perfectly FINE. Since you’re too blind to tell, my Myspace default pic is a picture of me showing off my NEW BATHING SUIT! How is a bikini skimpy?! YOU WEAR IT IN PUBLIC.

The next thing I am going to confront; all of your insults. I’m sorry, I don’t care how pissed off you are at me; I don’t take being called a “fucking whore” all too well. I’m not a whore. I don’t date just anymore, and I most certainly don’t fuck just anyone either. Oh and, I’m not going to die any time soon, I’m not going to hell (but YOU probably will), I’m not worthless nor am I a piece of shit.

Among other things, of the two of us, I think YOU’RE the one who’s wasted MY time. I didn’t realize how much of a PMSing bitch you were, and I didn’t realize that you’d flip out over the TINIEST things/nothing like some pre-pubescent loser. You have no right to tell me never to talk to you again. I’M THE ONE WHO WANTS NOTHING TO DO WITH YOU, AND YOU NEVER FUCKING TALK TO ME AGAIN. Until you actually GROW THE FUCK UP AND ACT YOUR AGE, I don’t want to deal with you. You’re not 12 anymore, you’re 20-21. You’re an adult; ACT LIKE ONE.

Comments (1) May 05 2009