Great, fucking great. Love this so much.
I've been up and down so much over the past three days, I think I'm starting to lose my mind. Or it's already lost and somehow I'm retaining some semblance of sanity.
For Christ's sake.
My father has such a monopoly on my feelings. Whatever mood I'm in, he has the power to turn it on its head. I was like I was yesterday, happy and bouyant, until about quarter past ten this morning. Then he called to say that he'd be dropping a laptop charger off, because mine is broken and he'd ordered one in. He also asked me to ask my younger brother if he was doing anything, if he wanted to earn some extra money cleaning his gutters today. My brother was still in bed, and as soon as he heard that he'd have to get ready in 10/15 minutes there was a flat out no. My father went huffy, started swearing, then hung up the phone. About 20 minutes later, he pulls up in the driveway, hands me my laptop charger, tells me my brother is a lazy fuck, and starts to pull away. I say sorry. He stops, has a full on one-sided yelling match at me through the open window of the car. I stand there, just fucking nodding and apologising. He ends up pulling away from the curb violently and drives off.
What the hell am I meant to fucking do about it?
I go into the house, and tell my brother that dad will be mad at him tonight. He asks why. I quote dad. "You're a lazy fuck." Letting him know that it was dad that said it.
"Fucking hell Brittany! What the hell else can I do, I can't get fucking ready in ten minutes!"
Why are you swearing at me, why are you yelling at me, why the fuck is this my fault now?
I tell him that he could probably remedy it by getting ready, calling dad, explaining he couldn't have in that short an amount of time and asking if he wants him to come over now.
"No, why the fuck do I want to help someone who calls me a lazy fuck? I'm fucking sick of him."
I cannot fucking believe my brother sometimes.
I blew up.
"Look, it's not just you it's going to impact negatively on. He's going to be in a fucking bad mood with me and, oh, don't forget you have another sister too, because he can't just round on one person, especially when that one person he's rounding on just sticks his iPod in his ears and is oblivious to the fucking world around him! I cop the fucking brunt, you know it, that forced me into fucking depression for a fucking year and half. Look, I think I have a lot more reason to be sick of him than you do, yet I still go to his house, I still am perfectly fucking civil to him even though I want to kill him. He asks you to do one bit of work, you refuse, he has a go at me about it, and you tell me you're fucking sick of him? I'm fucking sick of having a brother who doesn't acknowledge that other people fucking exist and that they have fucking feelings too."
Tears are streaming down my fucking face.
You know what he replies? He replies "You're just fucking weak."
I fucking hate my father for making me so fucking weak.
No, I hate myself for making myself so fucking weak. It's my fault.
Why the fuck can't I deal with this?
Oh fucking well, deal with it.