So Hi All.

This morning has gotten off to truly a smashing start. After finding it impossibly difficult to actually get up this morning, horrid headache, eyes screaming- I don’t even know, all I can say is: IB.

Then we got ready to go to school, everything was happy and moving smoothly- I even got my hands on a pink school shirt! (School uniform dilemma averted!) Only to get in the car, my sister, my dad and I, all I could think was that it was strangely quiet but I didn’t think much about it (calm before the storm…)

Two minutes before we turn into the final drive for the school dad goes and picks a fight. Not any fight, this one was actually quite terrible. I don’t know how to describe it, when I get into a fight, most of the time I develop a shield and people (even my family) can say some really terrible things to me and I just won’t cry. This isn’t all the time, but “thankfully” today that was the case.

Dad opens the old can of worms about Maths- something I’m notoriously bad at, I genuinely am trying to fix that, I don’t want to be bad at Maths, I just can’t understand it. The seemingly innocent question soon collapsed in on itself, only to rear up it’s head as the ugliest of arguments, made worse because my dad and I hardly fight.

Made even more horrible because he basically said I was a lazy shit that wouldn’t amount to anything. Then promptly nearly ran over two kids. On two separate occasions on the drive to school. I’m not even kidding. One was at a freaking zebra crossing.

I don’t even know what goes on in his tiny little mind sometimes, maybe he thought he was “too good” to have to wait for the lollipop man to stop all the cars before he drove across, nonetheless, tires screeching, true hollywood style, he takes off just as a family with small children goes to step across the road.

God, he’s such an animal sometimes. Stanley-like rages are happening more and more commonly.

I really wanted to leave the car with a smart remark about how unnecessarily mean he’d been, but I was genuinely concerned that he’d wind the window down and start hurling abuse at me as I walked into the school with everyone watching. He would do it. Don’t believe me if you don’t want to, but those that know my dad in a bad mood, he’s perfectly capable of it.

I wanted to tell him that he’s more like his own dad everyday (not a nice thing so say). I wanted to tell him he’s a grumpy old git that needed to get over himself. I’m so tempted to give him a leaflet for an anger management course. But instead I just settled for: “you don’t have to worry about me for much longer”, in response to his: “I have to work for the food that you eat.”

I mean, seriously? I’m very aware of everything he does for me. Which is exactly why I’ve wanted to run away so much as I’ve grown up. My life isn’t bad by anyone’s standards, but it’s still my life and I don’t chose to live with the verbal abuse when the door is right there.

The only thing that kept me at home before was the knowledge that if I left I wouldn’t be able to go to school. Now? I’m so close to finishing. Sure if I left I’d never go to University, but with the money I’ve saved up so far for Greece, I’d probably be able to get a flight to Melbourne to live with my big sister for a bit until I figured out what the hell to do instead with only an IB diploma. Even this plan requires me to stay another 6 months minimum.

I guess if I wanted to leave bad enough, I’d just leave, the fact I’m sticking around just goes to show it’s not that bad… (or I’m a masochist)

So yeah. With that wonderful start to the day, I head off for Biology.


Listening to K-Pop to Try Cheer Myself Up


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