Fucking lame sauce.

^^^Tee hee I stole that from Robin and Kiwi. :]]]

So anyways, my mother was saying some shit to me today and according to her she put in a notice to Kentridge saying that I would be moving in with my father during mid-winter break. I wouldn't mind living with him and getting away from all you Kentridge fucking asshats, but honestly now, who the hell goes and moves their child without even telling them? What, was she just going to send me off for the weekend and lead me to believe everything was normal, then show up with a U-Haul the next day and just leave me? Pfft. You gotta admire that.

And her reason? Because I won't talk to this bullshit counselour. If you'd met her, you wouldn't talk anyways. And if you'd met me, you'd know I don't talk to shrinks. I've lived with this women for nearly sixteen years now, and she still has yet to realise this. Oh, and she also said that it was free counseling but turns out she's using my allowance to pay for it, since it does charge. Yeah...it was fucking bullshit too. She ended up coming into the room while I was in there and telling the counselour all this bullshit about me, like that I'm trying to kill myself and I keep skipping school, neither of which are true (the last one should be especially obvious since I'm there so fucking much). Then the counselor asked my mom some family history questions, and my mom went and told her all these illnesses and other shit that apparently runs in my family, NONE OF WHICH I have ever been informed of, like personality disorders and depression. Except I kind of figured that last one since people in my family love killing themselves.

Anyways, I didn't say a word the whole time. So I guess that's like the ultimate crime to her, and now she's talked to the courts and is ready to give full custody to my father. Of course he wants that though. He's a fucking creep who wants me to be his weak and memory-challenged young lassie again. But I actually like him better now so I kind of stopped caring about that old stuff. I always forget what he does anyways.

Except he lives in this tiny one-room apartment, so I don't know how I'd live there. Plus I really like that place and don't want him to move. It's such a lovely town he lives in, with pubs next to libraries next to shoe stores, and lazy hipsters roaming the streets at all hours with old men in Adidas. What a fucking wet dream of a residency.

Yeah fuck it. I want to move. Not yet. Like in a month. Yeah. That'll be good. Most of my Kentridge friends have changed for the worse or think they're too cool for anyone who's not a fucking clone of a clone of another fucking clone, and I'm pretty sure everyone is fucking laughing at me every waking moment. Whoo. Damn I'll miss those fucks.

Speaking of Kentridge, I still have like sixteen hours worth of makeup work (damn my slow learning abilities!) that I've yet to finish, and I'm starting to vent on one of my public diaries, which is never a good thing to do. Yeah...whoever said telling people how you feel will make things better is a dumbass.


P.S. - She's probably bluffing.