The absolute truth about me is – believe it or not, I’m a private person. I don’t talk about my family to anyone. I don’t talk about them for a few reasons; One being embarrassment, two being it’s nobody’s problem except my own, and three – it’s depressing to talk about it.
I would write everything down in my journal and leave the house with my baggage far behind. I was a new person every time. Nobody knew the crap that goes on in my house, and if nobody know’s, than it doesn’t really happen, right?
Plus I’m not a drama queen. I don’t create drama in my life – I HATE drama in my life (but I love hearing about others).
Basically this blog is opposite of who I am. It represents everything I don’t tell my friends, well, some things I don’t tell them.
It’s like going on a talk show and telling the world all my personal stuff. Why do people do that? Why am I doing this?
I just like to write.
I went without dinner last night. I was so hungry, but I couldn’t go upstairs. Nobody knew exactly what my message to my cousin said, so they started making up stuff to fill in the blanks. Everything was blown out of proportion – they insisted that I wrote hateful things about OCDC, and that he was yelling at my dad and yelling at everyone. I had to print out a copy of the messages to give to them.
I’m holding back a lot of things that were said. My mother hates me, and doesn’t trust me. The way she talks to me sounds like she’s talking to a dirty rotten pig. I’m not embellishing. And I just stand there and take it. I don’t do a damn thing.
Three more clients and I get to go home, or more like, have to go home.