Something positive.
At least it didn’t happen on Sunday. No one can talk negative talk on Sundays! I wouldn’t have brought up a thing.
Wait, is that good or bad?
Honestly if she’d talked I would have reminded her that when she wants help she can say it. But she clearly doesn’t want help. She just wants to comfortably hate this place. I guess.
You wouldn’t have believed how f*cking comfortable she was talking about this house when it was our fault. No wonder we had trouble talking about it. She’d blame us.
Something positive.
Nestle really enjoyed yesterday’s run! So much that today, despite me avoiding taking her anywhere so she could rest that last good leggy (and her scarred one), she kept looking at me with intense eye contact asking to go for a run. Poor pupper! It is boring here for her though. So I took her on a walk.
I wonder if my mom noticed I’m acting like I did when I yelled back at my psychopath dad. At my own risk. She basically told me to shut up and let him do whatever he wants because it was “necessary.” Bitch, you want my little brother dead? He should just comply with getting bitch slapped? You should just comply with getting raped all the time? Um, no.
And then I f*cking had revenge, and it’s still sweet. He’s forever on lists for being a child abuser. I was right. It was not “necessary” to deal with that idiot. I was a voice of reason and as usually was being told I was wrong.
Sick of it. No one else treats me like that. Ever. If they do they’re f*cking out of my life. I do not have to live with a psychopath and I don’t have to fix this stupid f*cking house.