I need to get out of this place. That woman is psychotic.

I told her last night that I needed to take a shower before we went into town to take back the recyclables. It was midnight that she asked for my help, and she had just had a cigarette in the bathroom. So I told her that I needed to take a shower this morning before we left. She was okay with it.

This morning, she had a cigarette in the only bathroom with a usable shower. She knew, since last night, that I needed that shower this morning. So I told her I couldn't take a shower now because she just smoked in there. (Them smoking in the bathroom has been a problem for a very long time. They know I don't want black lungs, but they don't care.)

So she starts screaming at me that I had to go with her anyways, even though my hair is greasy and I needed a shower. She says that no one cares about me, and that I'm not there to please anyone, so I shouldn't care what I look like. Granted, no one does care, but still. Going into town with greasy hair is just scuzzy. And she, of all people, should know what appearances are about. She's all the time saying how she can't go to the Quickway because she's not dressed and her hair's not done. And she's going to criticize me because I won't do the same?

She's fucking psychotic. Now I'm confined to my room like a child, without food she said, because I wouldn't go into town with greasy hair. If she had just waited maybe an hour and a half, I would have gone with her. I don't mind doing the recyclables. And, it's her fault I couldn't take a shower.

This entire argument is purely her fault. She started screaming at me first, and I never once swore at her. For the records, I behaved rather well during this one. She's the one who was swearing at me, calling me a bitch, verbally harassing me.

But it's me. I'm the psychotic one.

I really need to get out of here. She's flipping out on me for absolutely nothing.

Maybe I should call my grandparents and ask to move in with them for the summer. I'll get a job. Help around the house. I just can't stay here. That woman who gave birth to me is fucking psychotic.

But yeah, it's all me. I'm the one who needs to see a psychiatrist and get back on Zoloft.

She needs some fucking lithium. And cyanide.