RAGE

I want you to close your eyes. Funny, isn't it? With your eyes closed, you can't read what's on the screen. I guess these instructions would be better suited to be given verbally than to be given textually. You know what? Close your eyes anyway.

Listen closely. Hear that, that thumping sound of your heart? If you can't hear your heart, that's alright. You can at least feel your heart and project the sound it might have made. Can't feel your heart? ... are you a zombie?

Okay, you can open your eyes again. What was the point of that? No point at all. Just trying to calm you down a bit. 'You' being a general term for whoever reads this, be it 1 person or 100.

All needs to be calm. Because I am not calm. I might look like it on the outside, but on the inside I am a horrible, raging hurricane of untethered emotional instability. I am pretty sure I'm plum-fucking-crazy. And being where I am is not helping things.

My mother is a fucking hypocrite from hell, and I guess I'm turning out like her. Every day David has a friend come over here; his name is Kenny Wayne. My mother does not like Kenny Wayne. Why? Other than the fact that the guy is just as ignorant (if not more so) as David, it's because he is over here every day.

So whenever he pulls into the driveway, my mom's first words to me (since I'm usually in the kitchen finishing her chore... more on that later) are "I'm getting sick and tired of Kenny Wayne." Once or twice I've spoken up; "Go say something, then."

"... no."

I ask her why not, she avoids the question. She mumbles an answer under her breath, and then when I ask her to repeat it, she says never mind and moves into another room. And of course I'm busy, so I can't follow her. But it's like this for everything, regardless of who or what it is.

She was on a John MacArthur kick for a while a few months ago. She had me downloading his sermons for her, burning her CDs every night. And then when she was done with the CDs, she'd bitch to me about how he was wrong about things. So I told her to write him a letter and point out these things. She originally told me no. But she wouldn't stop bitching, so I told her to stop bitching to me and fucking do something about it.

So she wrote a letter, and got a letter back that was obviously written by a secretary.

She's complained about how the local churches aren't churches, but community gossip halls, and how she wants to do this or do that and 'help' get them 'on the right path again.' So I suggest that she do something, and she says, "No, I don't want to draw attention to myself."

THEN STOP YOUR FUCKING BITCHING!

Gah! Yes, there are some things I'm tired of from her, but at least I do my bitching here, where people can choose whether or not to read it, rather than out loud in front of people who have to be DEAF in order to not hear it!

Speaking of things I'm tired of from her: PICKING UP THE SLACK.

I understand she wants to get me out of my room, but my room is my safe zone. I will utterly SNAP if I'm not allowed to spend time in it, on my computer. I will be more crazy than normal.

I understand she wants me to get up and help around the house. However, the worst way to do this is to have me finish her shit. For instance, her favorite is to start the dishes, and then have absolutely nothing to do for the rest of whatever other than reading, but she wants me to finish her shit. She started the dishes, she should fucking finish them.

What happens if I try that? I get bitched at for not finishing the dishes. I fill up the sink, get sidetracked, and the dishes stay in the sink overnight? I get bitched at. She does the same thing? It's suddenly MY responsibility to do them.

Then there's cooking. Since her heart attack she's been on a health food kick, cooking up all these veggie-heavy "exotic" dishes. And being unable to manage her time as well. For instance, yesterday, I'm pretty sure she waited til I was awake before starting her recipe. Something that would have taken her a couple hours to do, and could have been finished by the time she had to watch the kids at 3:30pm, when she'd been awake since 6:00am reading. Reading.

I swear. Does Dizzles have to choke a bitch?