(no subject)
aren't breaks supposed to be.. you know.. good?
mine isn't, fuckass.
dear mom and dad:
i'd just like to know why getting in two accidents yet paying them off within a year of their occurance is worse than getting one ticket and three accidents and waiting four years to pay them off.not to mention i'm paying for over half of germany, bought my own fucking digital camera, and am kicking ass in school so you don't have to pay for college.so you can add penny after penny to your cute little bank account and buy a fucking house in the middle of nowhere.after all, my education/preparation for the real word pales in comparision to how cushy your retirement may or may not be.fuck you, mom and dad, for holding me to indescribable standards i didn't even know i had to achieve, and fuck you nate, for being a reject.at least i'm trying to be responsible with funds, and i'm sixteen.if you want to lecture me on responsibility, i'll chew your goddamn head off.every thing you tick off of your list that's hideously wrong with me, i can name at least three things about someone in this family that's far worse than any of my inverse accomplishments.maybe, also, you could do me a favor and realize i am not proud of who i am, what i have done, and what i have become [or am in the process of becoming].whether it be accidents or photographs or sex or cigarettes or lies or miscommunications or poetry or school, i won't be proud of any of it until i die.then, i'll know if the end justifys the means.SO STOP ACTING LIKE I'M GLAD I CRASHED MY CAR.STOP ACTING LIKE I'M BRAGGING ABOUT BEING A SELF CONTAINED FAILURE.i'm sick of cute suburban mommy and daddy expecting their two kids to default into 'good child' and 'bad child'.just because it's almost dawning on you that your first attempt at parenting failed miserably doesn't mean i am automatically going to be perfect.that just might've required a little more effort on your part in my fucking formative years.and when you telling me i'm not thinking of my future drives me to tears, well guys, THAT'S A BIG HINT.has it even dawned on you that getting out of here in a year and a half is the only thing keeping me from punching someone in the face?could you ever just sit back and think about maybe, you holding me to impossible standards is what i want to get away from?WHY WOULD I EVER DO SOMETHING TO MY SCHOOL CAREER TO JEAPORDIZE MY IMMINENT DEPARTURE?i've run out of words to express exactly how you make my head pound.I'M SORRY YOUR ASSWIPE OF A SON WILL NEVER LEAVE THE UPSTAIRS BEDROOM.I'M SORRY HE WILL NEVER WORK MORE THAN PART TIME, AND I'M SORRY HE'LL NEVER GET OUT OF SCRAFT.next time, however, you want to take it out on someone, look inward.consistent strain onto me about things i [surprisingly enough] have completely under control will only fuck me up worse than i am now.contrary to popular commercials, i value my privacy and trust my own decision-making ability.your daughter can do a lot of things.she can debate against college students and win, she can learn concepts quickly, she can get a's on math tests.she can organize galleries, write phenomenal essays, she can get into interlochen.there's only one thing she cannot do, and that's be good enough for your standards.
thank you, fuck you, i don't love you,
jenna.
sex type thing x: run away.
tangible memoirs: don't encourage me.
there is a sharp pain in my abdomen, from sternum to hip.someone tell me i'm dying.
mine isn't, fuckass.
dear mom and dad:
i'd just like to know why getting in two accidents yet paying them off within a year of their occurance is worse than getting one ticket and three accidents and waiting four years to pay them off.not to mention i'm paying for over half of germany, bought my own fucking digital camera, and am kicking ass in school so you don't have to pay for college.so you can add penny after penny to your cute little bank account and buy a fucking house in the middle of nowhere.after all, my education/preparation for the real word pales in comparision to how cushy your retirement may or may not be.fuck you, mom and dad, for holding me to indescribable standards i didn't even know i had to achieve, and fuck you nate, for being a reject.at least i'm trying to be responsible with funds, and i'm sixteen.if you want to lecture me on responsibility, i'll chew your goddamn head off.every thing you tick off of your list that's hideously wrong with me, i can name at least three things about someone in this family that's far worse than any of my inverse accomplishments.maybe, also, you could do me a favor and realize i am not proud of who i am, what i have done, and what i have become [or am in the process of becoming].whether it be accidents or photographs or sex or cigarettes or lies or miscommunications or poetry or school, i won't be proud of any of it until i die.then, i'll know if the end justifys the means.SO STOP ACTING LIKE I'M GLAD I CRASHED MY CAR.STOP ACTING LIKE I'M BRAGGING ABOUT BEING A SELF CONTAINED FAILURE.i'm sick of cute suburban mommy and daddy expecting their two kids to default into 'good child' and 'bad child'.just because it's almost dawning on you that your first attempt at parenting failed miserably doesn't mean i am automatically going to be perfect.that just might've required a little more effort on your part in my fucking formative years.and when you telling me i'm not thinking of my future drives me to tears, well guys, THAT'S A BIG HINT.has it even dawned on you that getting out of here in a year and a half is the only thing keeping me from punching someone in the face?could you ever just sit back and think about maybe, you holding me to impossible standards is what i want to get away from?WHY WOULD I EVER DO SOMETHING TO MY SCHOOL CAREER TO JEAPORDIZE MY IMMINENT DEPARTURE?i've run out of words to express exactly how you make my head pound.I'M SORRY YOUR ASSWIPE OF A SON WILL NEVER LEAVE THE UPSTAIRS BEDROOM.I'M SORRY HE WILL NEVER WORK MORE THAN PART TIME, AND I'M SORRY HE'LL NEVER GET OUT OF SCRAFT.next time, however, you want to take it out on someone, look inward.consistent strain onto me about things i [surprisingly enough] have completely under control will only fuck me up worse than i am now.contrary to popular commercials, i value my privacy and trust my own decision-making ability.your daughter can do a lot of things.she can debate against college students and win, she can learn concepts quickly, she can get a's on math tests.she can organize galleries, write phenomenal essays, she can get into interlochen.there's only one thing she cannot do, and that's be good enough for your standards.
thank you, fuck you, i don't love you,
jenna.
sex type thing x: run away.
tangible memoirs: don't encourage me.
there is a sharp pain in my abdomen, from sternum to hip.someone tell me i'm dying.