And, I guess you probably all expected a good happy holiday post even though this journal is on hiatus
But it isn't; I have a lot of pent up feelings; a lot of horrible feelings I want down somewhere; regardless of critique, or publicity it has; I ask you don't comment and tell me anything like 'hope you feel better'; because it just feels so shallow right now...
I guess I should start somewhere... like why this journal hasn't been around for so long
I guess I could blame that on my arm; but it's probably more my own fault; and me using my stupid arm as an excuse NOT to write things here; because I didn't want to
But my broken wrist hasn't felt good at all for the past few weeks; I haven't said a word of it to my mom or dad or seen about looking to the hospital
If the cast isn't on a wrist rest or pillow; it's in a sling nowadays
And I've had to cut back on a lot of things I'd love to do; duelling, horsing around, typing, writing, reading; even lifting things or opening stuff became a horrible chore now; and I've had to force myself to steady
I know that sounds hypocritical for a girl who begs people to remember and post back soon in several RPs; but; compared to what I used to write all the time; they were nothing
And in among the things I lost; this journal became one of them; an eye sore to look at; think of; or even TRY clicking the add post button; until eventually I just avoided it altogether
I've been a miserable, morose little wench; I don't care how blunt that sounds; it's how I think I must look here, struggling to concentrate which hand does what on the keyboard; and pouring out more angst than my 3 Linkin Park albums put together
But it's not just my arm; it gets worse
Mom and dad were putting pressure on me; early on to get my presents ready for everyone
So much so; it felt like I HAD to outdo myself at every turn; EVERY present had to be perfect; everything had to be ready and everyone had to receive insane generosity from me
I look back now and wonder; some presents I thought I was happy giving at the time; if they were just part of this programmed competition; or if they really WERE what I wanted to do
It's a sick feeling to sit there on Christmas morning; watching your gran open her present and hoping she likes it; when you're watching your parents give a dark look at one another for what's inside
It's even worse when they don't like what you bought; mom and dad that is; I bought my cousin PS2 games I managed to get cheap; Sonic Heroes and Zone of the Enders
And they accused me of buying them for myself. ********. I need to use that language there; I'm sorry; I do; and I have to vent this; it's about to get worse
I don't HAVE a ******** PS2, I don't even GO to my ******** cousin's house once in a couple of months; I HAVE my own ******** copy of Sonic Heroes that I play on my ******** own
How can they wait all that time to corner me in a hall and tell me to take a present I gave someone back and buy them something else?
God it feels horrible
And it does only get worse; I feel like Lemony Snicket here
Mom and dad weren't immune to their own forcefed season cheer
They made it a competition; a standard to meet; and it reached a peak tonight
They got drunk after all the things done
And they've been fighting for the past half hour; I can hear them
My Papa Smith was diagnosed with Alzheimers a long time ago; and ever since had to live in a home away from Gran
I still love him, even though he sometimes doesn't recognise me; just seeing that glimmer of my old papa still makes me smile
And my father called him '******** dead to the world' five minutes ago
They've been fighting about that still; because my mom said about how her dad died
I couldn't even see my friends this year; mom and dad told me I couldn't; because Christmas was about 'family'; they all must think I'm such a jerk
I can't call anyone; I can't go to anyone; I felt so lost and torn up
I had to write this down; I had to
I guess those commissions I hired earlier were quite fitting after all
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