You know that maybe you screamed a little too loudly when it echos through your house. I’d hate to live next to me….no wonder the neighbours don’t say hello any more. They probably think they are living next to a psycho maniac.
Of course he was a sleeping angel the whole weekend. Which of course got the inevitable “I don’t know what you’ve been complaining about” from my mother. If only she realised how much she fucking sounded like her mother when she said shit like that. If only she realised how much the shit she says hurts.
We’ve been down that road….I don’t bother telling her that the shit she says hurts because she thinks thats stupid. I can hear her mother there. We did ‘family therapy’ when I was a teenager….now that was a big arse waste of time. The session consisted of me curled in a ball, my father staring at the wall and my mother talking about how I was ruining their life. Oh joy so you can guess how beneficial that was. My childhood psychologist was a dick….but I thought the sun shined outta her arse. Gotta love Borderline for that.
I intended to write an entry about crisis numbers tonight but this just pushed its way to the front. Hopefully I will get around to the other post soon.