Okay, I never wrote about how I was kicked out of the house and homeless for a couple hours.

I'm trying to clean my room. Get everything out of here that doesn't belong, so I can bring all my stuff from college up here. This room is so full of shit from my childhood, that there's no place for everything I really use anymore. My college became the place where I had all my stuff, and now it's all in the living room and dining room (which we don't even use anymore). So I need to clean out my room so I can put all that stuff up here.

Well, there are toys in here that I don't want to just throw out. Things from my childhood. I was asking my mom what I should do with them. She wouldn't answer me. She flat-out ignored me. We were up in my room, trying to move my bed. We couldn't move it, so she was just standing there, looking at all my stuff. I asked her a couple times what to do with them. She eventually just answered, "I don't know." So I started to get really stressed, because I can't clean my room if I have no where to put all this shit. So she started to call my psycho because I was stressed. So I got really mad at her. One, because she wouldn't answer me at all. Two, because she was calling me psycho. I flipped out on her.

I admit, it wasn't my best idea. I called her a fucking cunt, blah, blah, blah. Well, she responded by kicking me out of the house. My laptop was on my lap at this point (I wasn't doing anything because I was so pissed at both her and myself), so I threw it off me and stormed out of the house. She kicked me out as I was, wearing pajamas and no shoes. I didn't have a chance to grab my cell phone, so I was completely alone.

So I walked out to the woods, and sat under a tree for a couple hours. I don't know how long I was really out there. It felt like a while, but maybe it wasn't long at all. I don't know. I didn't know what to do. I couldn't walk to McKayla's looking like I did. (Disheveled hair and old pajamas.) So I just sat there. I couldn't even call anyone.

So I prayed to God, whoever or whatever that may be. (I don't really think there is a God. Just a weird force of fate that we like to pretend is a holy being who answers our prayers and protects us. In my experience, fate does not protect me, nor does it answer any prayers. It has been cruel and unfair. And, if there is a God, why do so many bad things happen? Where is that O Holy Father, eh? If he was really out to protect "all his children" down here, then why are so many children abused? Case in point.)

After whatever length of time I was out there, and after praying that some mystical being would help me through this if I promised to change, I went home. I knocked on the front door of my own home. My mom tried talking through the door, but as she learned, it's harder to hear through a solid-wood door than she expected.

So she opened the door, and as I tried to apologize, she walked right away. Whatever, I knew she was mad at me, so I didn't expect any different. At this point, I was trying to fully blame myself. She wouldn't listen to any apology I had, so I asked if I could get dressed so that I could leave. She asked where I'd go. I said I didn't know, but probably to McKayla's. She got frustrated and told me to just stay. Whatever, man, whatever.

So I grabbed my cell phone out of my purse and ran upstairs. I texted McKayla first thing. She was in dance, anyways, so going to her house wouldn't have done a thing for me.

So I just sat up in my room and cried. I'm psychotic, but I have a selfish bitch for a mother. It's a dangerous combination.

Things cooled down after a couple days. My dad still talked to me, but only when my mother wasn't present. But whatever.

But after things got better, they got worse again. We were sitting on the couch, probably about a week later, and she was talking about doing her nails. I asked if she'd do mine again, and she said no, 'cause I'd just rip them off again. (She did my nails the day before she kicked me out, and by that next day, two had fallen off because I was trying to move my bed. So when she kicked me out, I thought I'd be stuck with two nails missing, and I chewed off the other eight nails.) So I just quietly got mad at her, because it was ridiculous that she expected me to not rip my nails off after she kicked me out of the house. What, was I supposed to just go around with two missing nails?

So then I got up to get something to eat, and she asked me to bring her sub from lunch to her. She knew I was pissed at her, and she still expected favors? I fully hate that woman, and she expects me to love her and bend over backwards for her every command.

Well, I got her sub, but I dropped it on her lap. Well, she got all pissed at me and demanded I handed it to her nicely. Only making my bad mood worse. I admit, I shouldn't have treated her so piss-poor. But if you lived with this woman, you'd understand that it's just hard to really like, or even respect, her.

Well, that turned into a huge blow-out, and she said that if I wouldn't leave, she would. So she stormed up to her room. I just sat there for a few minutes, pissed at myself for blowing up at her like that.

But we cooled down after that, too.

And my dad expects me to just pretend like I like her. It's hard to do that. I really don't like her. Sometimes, I hate her. I don't hate my dad. I love my dad. I just get very mad at him, a lot. But I don't hate him.

I'm sorry, but I just do not like my mother, at all.