abcdefghijklmnoalphabet

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

It's a slap in the face when you learn that you no longer really have the place you're constantly promised you have.

It's Christmas Eve, I've been left downstairs because I was asleep. Just woke up to the lights off and everyone's gone to bed. This is after my siblings pretty much stayed away and did their own thing the whole day.

"My friends are coming around later so I can give them their Christmas stuff." "Oh, okay! Sure, don't forget to give them the stuff I bought them! Our adopted family!" My friends couldn't come for longer than one hour and when they did, they weren't allowed one of the 48 cans of coke we had. We certainly never had any adopted family. My friends? Not wanted.

"Shit! I've got another piece of glass on my foot!" "Oh god! HAHAHA! Not again!" Context - I got a piece of glass in my foot last year, deep enough to draw blood, and because I immediately jumped up to clean it because I couldn't really afford to be off my feet if it got infected (it went in there DEEP), I was absolutely ridiculed. But then, when I know what to do to relieve cramps so bad my sibling's writhing in pain and crying/throwing up (literally), I'm the world's best thing. Take home? My pain/discomfort needs to be hidden, I am here to resolve everyone else's.

"I'm going to a lock-in at this pub on Boxing Day for my friend's dad's birthday." "Oh, okay! Sure, that'll be nice!" I wasn't allowed to eschew family coming over to go see friends, certainly not for a friend's parent's birthday party. The one time I was allowed to go to an overnight NYE party, I got bollocked for 'ruining' dinner the next day. (You can imagine how hard it also is to see my siblings get driven all over the place when I couldn't go somewhere unless someone else was driving me).

"Dad's mum's coming on Friday with us! And dad's sister!" "Oh, that's nice! Are you going to get them a card?" "Yeah, sympathy would be nice?" "Yes, and some flowers would be nice as well." Context - my abusive stepdad (their dad), he had an equally abusive stepdad who died recently. Both these men were horrible. Not only do I have to be kind to him despite the fact that I'm still fucking paying off the seven grand of debt he put my mum in because he financially destroyed her, but now I have to watch them go be nice to him and be all over him for no fucking reason. He doesn't give them shit.

All I'm seeing is that I'm the problem. I never had a place here when my stepdad was here, and now I have even less of a space because I'm literally sleeping on a sofa on Christmas Eve despite the fucking argument we had about me not doing that (I was okay with it until I got shouted down about it). My back's in pieces now because I was left asleep on this shit, and it's freezing cold. But I don't have any partner to stay with over christmas, and I don't have friends I could be with either, because everyone has their own families. I feel like I'm stuck in a rut where I just don't fit or belong anywhere... and I can't stay away by myself because then they'll all take offence.

30 so far has been really fucking shitty. But then, since I shouldn't have survived past 14, I can kind of see why. I just hope something happens next year where I'm not able to get here (not injury or anything like that, but just otherwise taken), and then they'll have the space to stretch out without me being here. Because it's so fucking painfully obvious that I don't fit in. But I haven't fitted in since I was 11, I've just been the burden that probably shouldn't have actually taken in the fucking womb. Hence why the Universe has just given me what I've wanted, because I was a roaring mistake.

And that's not even taking into account the shit that happened before I came back. I put so much thought and effort into getting gifts this year, only for half of them to be left in a bag because NO I HAVENT GOT YOU ANYTHING SO FUCKING HELL AMY WITH THESE GIFTS. Okay, no gifts. Noted. Next year it's a couple packs of speculoos cookies and a fucking hug. Saves me €100 and the hassle of wrapping everything up. And then there's the possibility that these same people may have gone and told someone that I'm available for a relationship and that they should pursue me. Some of the offhanded comments I've had, coupled with the insistence on overgifting, and the desperation for coffee... it's a bit weird. And I'm not comfortable. But the running theme now seems to be that I should be grateful, no standards, no type, and be super enthusiastic about a relationship even if the person just doesn't do anything for me romantically. I'm being told left, right and centre that I'm grateful, not gorgeous.

I don't get posted on anyone's social medias, because they're ashamed to be seen with me. I'm always left out of my siblings' socials posts even when they post about coming to see me, because they're ashamed that they're related to me. I don't fit in. I don't match. I'm the weird fucker with the facts who likes to google... who also gave up a lot of childhood shit so they could have a better one. Giving up my teen years when I should have been exploring, so they could have the same kind of childhood I had. Did it help? No. Their dad still left, and if anything their teen years have been so much fucking worse because now mum's fucked financially and they can't do half the shit we could do. They don't see any of the shit I've done. And all I'd want in return is just to be included in one single post online, or to have the option of a fucking camping mattress on the floor overnight.

Scratch it. I hope next year just takes me. They'll get €75k if I die and nothing changes because I'm not around to begin with. I just hope it's something cool - like an aptly placed head kick in my fight. Or a fat body induced heart attack. Doing something I love. Because either way, I'm dying alone and a virgin - it makes no sense for me to cling onto this until I'm fucking 60 or some shit.

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

Next time, just pay for the food.

it’s much easier to just pay for a meal and not think of the cost and not say anything about it, rather than admit that £50 for 4 meals is a bit much for lunch. Dinner? Sure. But lunch? Bit too much. But I should have just fucking paid it, because the fallout is worse to deal with.

I don’t wonder why I’m fucking terrified to buy shit for myself that puts me in the spotlight and makes me pleasing to people to look at. I bought an outfit today and I feel gross because I should have seen that, if I have £80 to drop on a new Nike outfit, new shoes (for the first time in about a year), and a new jacket, then I should have £50 to drop on lunch and not suggest something else.

I then also shouldn’t be surprised when I don’t offer to do the dishwasher immediately despite being told no-one ever does it. I’m sick of being discounted and hurt for wanting to take some time - like I don’t do anything, but I do. I do things.

next time, I’ll just pay for the meal. Because Jesus Christ, clearly I owe that.

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

I think the hardest part of realising that you don't matter and don't count is realising it after convincing yourself that you do matter and do count. Assuming I live until I'm 90 years old, I've got 60 years ahead of me to just exist and wait until other people need me/want me. Realising that you have to find things to do to fill 60 years (maybe 70 years), while you're waiting for people to need or want you, whether it's friends, family, whatever, is sobering.

I won't be a mother at this point. I'm 29 years old. By the time I find someone who wants to settle down with me (because we all know the moment I open my mouth, it's game over), I'll be 33/34. Then obviously you have to spend a good bit of time getting to know the person, because maybe they might not want kids or might not be ready for them. That's, what, 37? 38? Cos no-one willingly jumps into having kids with someone they've just met unless it's an accident. 38/39 is a geriatric pregnancy. That means I'll be 50 years old, more or less, with a 10-year-old kid.

I've got it in my head that Matthias. He's currently 46. It's not happening no matter how hard I believe it will. It's nice to dream, though.

Issue also is that:

Guys who are my age are taken

If they're single, they're walking red flags

Guys who are older are looking for someone more mature than I am

Guys who are younger are looking for someone their own age or younger

Guys who I'm attracted to are never attracted to me (100% proval rate)

Guys who are attracted to me are never attractive to me

I'll probably have to settle for some guy who's just plain desperate to be with someone if I don't want to die alone

Being the only single virgin friend in my life doesn't really help matters. Like literally none of my friends are single.

It's only a matter of time before I'm actually forgotten. Which begs the fucking question, if my only fucking purpose on this Earth is to wait around for someone to remember me, only to eventually be completely forgotten about, why the fuck did I survive when I was 13?!

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

Dear Martha, 

We haven’t spoken in a while. 26th February, you hurt me so deeply I didn’t know how to feel about it. After all, you’d spent two years of our friendship building me up and telling me that I should accept better from the world around me (professionally, personally), it never once occurred to me that you might be negatively judging me for the things I’ve been through. 

I still don’t understand why you felt it necessary to say the things you said, nor why you were so hell-bent on making sure I knew how shit I am with money, or how terrible my family is for taking the money from me. That’s why I didn’t really back down, and kept trying to explain myself. With Violet backing you up, I can see why you felt empowered to let me know every single fault you saw with my situation, but I don’t understand why you refused to see things from my perspective. After all, you’ve never struck me as the kind of person who just trusts one single source of information - but perhaps I’ve had you wrong all these years. 

You told me that domestic abuse, physical and mental, is no reason for me and my mum to be in any kind of financial hardship. In fact, you and Violet were very dismissive of the fact that I opened up about my abusive stepfather, and that hurt more than anything else. You see, at the heart of it, I had a shit childhood. Allow me to explain. 

At the age of 2, my mum left my dad because he couldn’t care for me properly. He would sooner see me piss myself in the middle of a shop and blame it on my ‘inability to let him know I needed the toilet’, rather than take me to the toilet himself. He was crippled with fear that people would think he was some kind of paedophile, and so he couldn’t take good care of me. My mum met my stepdad, who was more than happy to take me to the toilet, even asked me if I needed to go if he saw a toilet. No fear from him, and I support her choice. 

When I was 6 years old, I lost my granddad. He was a constant in my life, and I’m sad I only got six short years with him. He was more of a father figure to me in those six years, even though he wasn’t my mum’s real dad, nor was he my aunties’ real dad. He was my nan’s last relationship. Yet he stepped up to the plate and took care of me even when he was in the final stages of a very aggressive leukaemia. When he died, I was broken and devastated. It then didn’t help that shortly after, aged 7, I had to attend court hearings because my mother and father were battling for custody of me. My mum ultimately won (and likely against your approval used all of her savings paying for legal representation to keep hold of me), but only because my father reliquished any and all care of me to her just two weeks after he’d won. So my granddad died, my father didn’t want me, and my stepfather was regularly at odds with my mum. 

What neither of us knew, as I grew older, was that my stepfather was working to back my mother into a corner financially. He saw a strong woman, manager of a banking branch, manager of a team of 12 people, capable of raising a child on her own effectively, and used her. Used her for money while he studied a postgrad degree in computing, stole her car, charmed her incessantly so she’d feel sorry for him and give into him. My mum isn’t stupid - she’s a giving and generous person, even more so if it’ll benefit her children. When he got a decent job, he was happy to buy a house with her and sign her into a joint account with him. He’d slowly ensnared her, used her for her good credit score, taken money from her and backed her into a corner which she didn’t know she was in. Because that’s what sociopaths and narcissists do, Martha. They lure you in, they gain your trust, they methodically break you down, and then they ruin you properly so you rely 100% on them for everything. They make you, then they break you. 

He didn’t stop at money. No. He broke a number of family relationships too - he made it uncomfortable for my family to visit, and so they stopped. He made it clear he wasn’t happy, so my mum stopped inviting them so often. He ruined those relationships... and there was fuck all we could do about it, because he was volatile and aggressive and explosive if he was angry. You try living in that situation. It’s hard. 

Growing up, I was usually afraid of him. Every single day I’d run back and to towards the window every time I heard a car pass by to check if he’d come home from work early, so I could start cleaning. He wasn’t happy with me unless he came in to me cooking, or cleaning, or ironing clothes, or anything like that. I couldn’t even do homework - I HAD to do chores. If he came in and I wasn’t, that meant the evening was spent with him and my mother screaming at each other because my mum defended me, and he wanted to break our relationship. He tried. Fuck me, he tried to break our relationship. He tried to get her to hate me, to remove our solidarity. But he only succeeded in making our bond closer,and enviable to other families. 

He grew physically abusive, too. Borderline with me (he would throw cutlery at me - he once threw a DVD at me because I hadn’t moved it even though it wasn’t mine, it was his). He threw a laptop at my mum during an argument and broke her rib. I was told she’d fallen down the stairs. She was taken to hospital, and she told them she’d fallen down the stairs too. That went on file as possible domestic abuse. I was 8 when that happened. He pushed past her on the stairs one time, too. Lilly saw. Lilly told the school. The school pulled my mum in and asked if they should send social services. He threatened her with knives, too. Always tried to turn it on himself, though - “GO ON THEN, STAB ME! STAB ME, YOU FUCKING BITCH!” he roared one night. That night I had to go get into bed with my sisters and make them laugh and tell them funny stories because they were both shaking in fear. That happened a few times. It happened again when I was 21 and about to leave for Belgium. He roared so hard at my sisters that they clung to me and begged me not to let them get into the car with him. I had to stay between them and a very angry six-foot-tall man. He punched the door downstairs. I had to let them go with him. I was terrified he’d crash with them in the car, he couldn’t calm down. I let them go with him, I nearly threw up. I called him a spineless cunt, and then I did throw up because he came charging back up the stairs and screamed in my face ‘WHAT DID YOU JUST CALL ME?!’. I was convinced he was going to punch me, finally. One punch from that man and I’d have been dead. I didn’t want my sisters to go with him, but I was powerless to stop him, and my mum was in work. Do you have any idea how that feels? To be that powerless against someone? To be unable to protect two little lives? 

I told you about the bailiff who came to our house. I got my age wrong. I was 12 when that happened, and at the time a 12 year old couldn’t be left in the house on their own. So, if I’d been caught in that house on my own, I’d have been taken into care, as would my sisters. So, when Violet countered that with ‘yes, that’s nothing, our power got turned off for three days’, you can understand why I felt that was a dismissal of something quite serious. See, if I had been taken into care, I wouldn’t be in Brussels. I wouldn’t be okay. My sisters wouldn’t be okay, either. My family would have been torn apart purely because my stepdad got into debt and didn’t tell my mum. That’s not her fault - that’s entirely his fault. He wanted her for himself. One of the things I never mentioned (partly because it’s the darkest thing I’ve ever done to myself), is that aged 13, shortly after the bailiff incident, I grew so tired of the stress that I sat one night, took two full boxes of paracetamol, and wrote out my notes to my few friends and to my mum, explaining that I didn’t want to be a financial burden on them any more. That’s why I want to protect my sisters. I don’t want them to understand things wrong and feel that it’s on them to put things right. 

I appreciate that you don’t know how to understand the mentality of a child - you never grew up with two tiny babies in your teenage years, how could you? But I am aware that kids misunderstand things. Ruby, my youngest sister, actively starved herself to fainting in school because she overheard my mum telling me how the child support money barely covered the girls’ school food accounts (while we were planning her financial relief route). She told my mum that her dad was paying for her school food, but in reality she was maybe eating an apple at best. She fainted, Martha, because she was so hungry because she felt bad for spending so much money on her dinner. And no, packed lunches aren’t an option for her - she has to carry everything with her all day, and that equals more than 5kg of stuff in her bag (books, dance class kit, afterschool workout kit, homework books, and a coat). Another load of food would be too much. We know, we’ve thought of it. So you can surely understand why I want to protect my sisters, both of them, from knowing anything about finances. If they want something big for their birthday, we save for it and we get it for them because they ask for nothing all year. They know we have little, and they get very little. But I refuse on principle to refuse my sisters a christmas present that costs a lot. 

My stepdad tried to force my mum to abort my youngest sister. He didn’t want kids. He wanted my mum for himself, and he wanted the kids out of the way. He never wanted to spend time with us, and when he did, it always ended in a screaming match.

Stepfather aside, I had no respite at school, either. From the relentless ‘walking on eggshells’ I had daily with my only friend in primary school, to the relentless bullying because I was fat/spotty/weird in high school, I never actually got any respite from stress. I was physically attacked walking home from school, and I was spat on one time for being a fat piece of shit cunt who deserved to die. One day I even had a tennis racquet thrown at my face because I was spotty, and the girl who’d stolen it off me got angry that I had to go home and wanted it back. I was always forgotten, left out, and when I was invited to parties I was the butt of the jokes and left out of the in-jokes. I had things planned in front of me, and when I turned up thinking I was invited, I was told I wasn’t, and made to leave just by being ignored. 

My only foray into a relationship was with a guy who strung me along for three weeks to as a dare from his friends (who were mutual between us). I waited 2 hours in town for him to get off the bus for our first date, but he never showed up. When he finally answered my calls, he said his granddad had died, and that he couldn’t come. I supported him, or tried to, but the Monday after, he met up with me in college and told me he couldn’t keep up the pretence any more - he wasn’t with me at all, it was a huge joke, but it wasn’t fair at all because I was too nice. He didn’t expect that, because they’d told him I was a complete weirdo and would probably become obsessed with him. When that didn’t happen, and when I was more grateful that he found me attractive... well, he felt bad. And I felt like the biggest twat walking the planet. Since then, I haven’t had a boyfriend. I’m still a virgin, and I can’t imagine that anyone would want to sleep with me, have sex with me, or even would find me attractive. I can’t see myself holding a child of my own, and I can’t see that anyone would want to spend their free time with me. And furthermore, who would WANT to hang around with me? I’m always the weird one. I always will be the weird one. But it’s because I was never allowed to grow fully.

When I moved to university, my first choice was far, far away. I applied to Scottish universities that took at least 4 hours to drive to. My reasoning was firstly to get away from him, but then secondly to get somewhere where my mum and the girls could escape to if he got really bad and they needed to. I lived financially independent of them because I knew my mum would need any and all cash she could get to get out of there if she had to. I had depression at Uni, I was terrified of going out, I couldn’t form good friendships either. I wasn’t a normal human because I’d only ever known stress since I was 2 years old. Obtaining a degree and having minor success as a rower was therefore a huge achievement for me. 

So. I understand that you have your way of saving and using your finances, but I have my way too. I have a demand on me to keep my family together. There are so many variables which rely on money for my mum to keep her job and custody of my sisters, and even if that means I have to adjust my own way of life, I will ALWAYS put my family first, because we’ve been through hell and back together. If my mum loses her car, for example, which I pay some towards, then she cannot get to work. She loses her job. Or, she takes a two-hour long busride to work, and leaves my sisters alone in the mornings before school, and in the evenings after school. She would be out of the house for longer than 12 hours. If the school was made aware of that, she’d lose her job. If she loses her job, she can’t pay rent. No rent, no house. No house, the girls have to go and live with their abusive father who has gotten A LOT worse since he lost control of my mum. I don’t think I could live with myself if that happens, so I’d be moving back to the UK to take the first job I could find, and I’d be caring full time for two young children, six months of emergency money or not. My family is my priority. Your family isn’t. I have never judged you for that, and I never would, because I don’t know enough about your life or your background, and it’s not my place to judge. But I will not accept you dismissing my abused past. It’s affected me far more than you could ever know. 

In conclusion, I’ve done well to get to where I am. I need to seek therapy for everything that’s happened, but I’ve learned one thing. You don’t care about the things you said to me. You don’t care about the things it triggered within me. You don’t care about the effect it had on me, nor do you care that my response to what you said was to harm myself, to pick at my body and bleed to feel better. I have complex PTSD from years of stress, and I have OCD which is responsible for my picking and my obsessive ‘weird’ nature. You triggered an episode of PTSD in me so bad that I actually reached out and rang for therapy. Poor me, though; I didn’t get a chance to see anyone because the lockdown ruined it all. So, I’ve had to learn to let it go by myself. You’ll always live by your own standards, and in a way I feel sorry for you that you can’t see things from my point of view, more so that you clearly don’t have the level of closeness that I have with my own family. But I don’t judge you for it, because I don’t know them and I don’t really know you that well. 

I forgive you for the short-sighted view you have. I think you’re lucky to have gotten far in life without suffering abuse at the hands of family or friends. But I also think you have a lot to learn in the way of being more open-minded and accepting of those who have only known stress and suffering. And I realise now that spending so much time and anger hurting over what you’ve said to me when I trusted you is only hurting me - you don’t care. You’ll continue to live your life as you do, and you won’t change anything whether I hate you or not. 

But know that I will never forget what you said to me on the 26th February, and I’ll never forget how it felt. I’ll never forget it, and I likely won’t let you forget it, either. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

Basically, I’m so so glad you posted photos of your graduation on Facebook because you’re now basically my ‘do not’ for my own day. If there is a day I end up even one shred like you, I’d like to think someone will push me under a fast moving vehicle, or at least pull me up about it. 

I hate everything about you. It says something about a friendship when the only thing I really give a fuck about is the writing and the RPing. Like that’s all I’m around for now. I’m not doing it any more. I tell you everything about what I’m doing. I tell you times I’ll be around, when I won’t be. I tell you what I did, where I went, etc etc. What do you do? Fucking nothing. That’s what you do. 

I sat there last year with a full-time job in a different country. I made timezones work so that I’d be able to have roughly the same amount of time with you as usual. I made my time work around you as well as me. I sat there and I wrote and wrote and wrote for you, knowing full well that you were enjoying it, you were liking the writing, you were in love with the plot lines. 

Now we’ve swapped. You’ve got the full-time job. I’m doing the dissertation. What writing have I had off you? One page? Two pages? A few ‘I promise, I’m planning something for you’ and then I get fucking bored of waiting for something to materialise, which it usually nearly always does when I tell you I’ve stopped caring for it. 

You’re just, in general, a shit friend. This is you who once said to me that you could be yourself around me. You could let yourself be free around me, and that you had to close yourself off to others and be ‘normal’ around them. But with me, you could let your imagination loose and be normal to yourself. What happened to that? Where did that go? What happened there? I’ll never get to find out. I won’t get half of what I’ve given. All the little bits and bobs I bought for you, never once repaid. £40 out of a £60 bill repaid to me, the rest forgotten. Every time you got something for me? Paid in full, often with a ‘oh, it was £2.70? Have three, it doesn’t matter about the change!’ You wouldn’t have dreamed of doing that for me. 

So it stops. I give up. You’re the worst friend I’ve had, and I’d had a good few. I’ve had friends who’ve just upped and left, friends who’ve decided they want to know me and then friends who can’t be arsed because someone or something better comes along. I’m 21 years old, I’m older than you, I’ve had more life experience than you, and yet you’re the one treating me like a child. I’m sorry, I don’t deserve that. 

Sort your weight out.

Sort your hair out. 

Sort your gozzy eye out. 

Sort your dress sense out. 

Sort your personality out.

Sort yourself out.

There’s a reason you’re in a shit job working for an MP in a party you don’t support. Keep it up and I’ll shoot a badger in front of your dad and show your mum his likes on Twitter. 

Because you don’t deserve a solid, stable family. You don’t fucking appreciate anything you have, and when you get something good, it’s never good enough. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

No, you need feminism because otherwise men wouldn't look twice at you because you're overweight, you stink of BO, your hair's shocking, and men don't want to fuck you. 

THAT is why you need feminism

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

You're just a fat, sorry, waste of space. You'll only ever be as good as your fucking shit retail job. You'll only ever be as good as your fat father. Because that's all you are. You're just fat. You'll never lose the weight because you'll forever kid yourself that you're beautiful, when you're just as fucking shallow and bitchy as the rest of them.

So go out with your workmates. Make time for them, and not me. Go out with them and cancel your plans with me. I'm just the mate you can't bear to be around because you're a fat jealous nothing with a shit, unclean house, which you don't own. 

You're full of lies, you're full of crap, and more importantly you're full of FAT. BECAUSE YOU'RE A FAT BITCH WHO DOESN'T DESERVE A NICE CHRISTMAS!!! Go be with your fat skanky ASDA friends, you fucking Shamu. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

YOUR FRENCH IS SHIT AND YOUR JOB IS SHIT AND YOUR LIFE IS SHIT AND YOUR HAIR IS SHIT AND YOUR FUCKING STOMACH IS SHIT AND DO YOU KNOW WHAT YOUR WHOLE FUCKING EVERYTHING IS SHIT YOU CAN'T SPEAK FUCKING FRENCH NOR CAN YOU SPEAK JAPANESE SO WHY THE FUCK DON'T YOU JUST FUCKING DROP OUT LIKE THE REST OF YOUR LOWLIFE NOTHING FREAKY FRIENDS AND DO THE FUCKING WORLD A FAVOUR!!!

YOU NEVER FUCKING SHUT UP, AND YOUR PATHETIC FUCKING JOKES ARE STUPID

SHUT

UP!!!!!!!!!!!

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

HOW FUCKING HARD IS IT TO FLUSH A FUCKING TOILET WE DON'T FUCKING LIVE IN THE EDWARDIAN TIMES WHEN YOU HAD A FUCKING HALLBOY TO EMPTY YOUR FUCKING CHAMBER POT FOR YOU JESUS FUCKING CHRIST THERE'S A BUTTON ON TOP OF THE FUCKING TOILET THAT TAKES IT AWAY YOU FUCKING SKANK YOU DIDN'T EVEN FUCKING WIPE OH MY FUCKING GOD HOW THE SHITTING WANK DO YOU EXPECT TO PULL OR DO ANYTHING WITH YOUR LACK OF FUCKING PERSONAL HYGIENE YOU FAT DISGUSTING BITCH?!:KFNDKHGJFDSLKF

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

It's going to be hard to live in harmony with other people when there's one person in the house who has a chronic disregard for personal hygiene and thinks that one person leaving three hairs in the shower cubicle equates to her leaving blood tissue in the toilet, leg hair on the toilet seat, shit all over the sink and whatever. I mean seriously. 

How am I supposed to voice my issues if I'm met with a fucking fat gozzy eyed stroppy teenager every time I try and settle something that's bugging me??? 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

You know what's fucking horrible? When you claim that you're 'oh so sophisticated', yet you sound like you're absolutely emaciated when you eat. 

I don't want to hear every fucking slap of your tongue against your mouth when you chew. Really I don't. No wonder I lost weight when you were last here. I can't bear to eat in the same fucking room as you because it sounds like you're about to be sick or something. 

Slow the fuck down and close your fucking mouth before you make me sick. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

So just let me get this straight, you have a go at me because as part of the course that I chose when I applied to university, I get to go on a year abroad, when you could have chosen to do a year abroad, yet you, YOU CHOSE NOT TO WHEN YOU, YOU CHOSE TO DO YOUR COURSE. 

Because apparently now I'm getting the blame for the choices you made. 

Once again. I get a nice thing, something I'm looking forward to, and you just have to go and spoil it for me. I'm beginning to think that you actually don't give a shit about me unless you're getting something out of me. 

And that, my little darling, is something I despise in a person.

Don't use me, because I sure as hell don't use you. 

Half of the shit you give me, I wouldn't dream of giving you. and I suppose in that sense, I'm like a dog. I'll just keep going back for more even though time and time again I know I'll get treated like utter shit. 

You're a wonky eyed, fat, chunky, smelly, disgusting, unflattering, common, vile human being, and it pains me to say, but the only good thing you've got about you is your ability to recall dates.

Everything else is at severe fault. 

Check yourself before you have a go at me. Because once you've lost me, you don't get me back.

And then what? You miss out on the bubbles in your life. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

Ohhhh, it's not nice when Amy goes down, is it? When Amy's not super enthusiastic? When Amy's all mellow and normal? 

No. No one likes it when Amy's plain Jane. 

Everyone expects Amy to be happy and bouncy all the time. 

And when she's not... ohhhhhh, how painful it is for you. 

You poor fucking lamb.

Make your own fucking happiness. You've killed me. Deal with the fallout. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

YOU KNOW FUCKIG WHAT I WILL FUCKING BLAME YOU FOR MY LACK OF SOCIAL LIFE YOU MOAN AT ME FOR NOT HAVING ONE THEN THE MOMENT I DO WHAT I LVEO DOING YOU HAVE A GO AT ME AND MAKE ME FEEL BAD

WELL FUCKING THANKS 

SOME FUCKING FRIEND YOU ARE

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

You moan at me for spending that much money on underwear, then go to the same shop and say actually it's not that fucking expensive?! Bitch I do what I want with my money if I can. 

Also please learn to fucking eat properly. You claim to know everything about sophisticated aristocracy, yet you can't fucking eat like a normal nice person. I could see every crumb of chip your mouth chewed up. I can never unsee that level of unattractiveness. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

So... all the time you've had off to sit around in your pyjamas and eat shite and ice cream and fuck around doing nothing, yet the very night before I leave when I've got everything to pack and do and what not, that's when you've got time for me? 

I don't mind things being on your terms, but holy shit fuck please don't force yourself. 

[abcdefghijklmnoalphabet]

DID I EVER FUCKING TELL YOU THAT I DON'T FUCKING CARE?! I REALLY FUCKING DON'T!? YOU MAKE ME FEEL LIKE A FUCKING BITCH, LIKE A FUCKING 12 YEAR OLD, AND I NEVER MAKE YOU FEEL LIKE THAT. EVER. 

TREAT ME LIKE THIS FOR MUCH LONGER AND YOU'LL WONDER WHHY THE FUCK I TURN COLD AND BITTER AND SAD AND FUCKING DEPRESSED.