The mediocrity that is me
Hello! My name is shit.
You know, it's one thing to know that your life is shit.
It's another thing all together to have to sit there and
listen to your mother tell you that your life is shit. Yes,
thank you mother for all the encouragement. It sure is nice
to know that you hate the person I am. Thank you once again
for pointing out to me that I am lazy and worthless. I
appreciate your continued support. Thank you for sharing
your opinion with me. I love knowing that my job is not
considered a job to you. And last of all, thank you for
reminding me that I have disappointed you once again. I am
sorry I don't live up to your standards. I'm sorry that I
couldn't be your perfect daughter. I'm sure one of my
younger sisters will turn out just the way you want, and
not fucked up like I am.
Maybe I'm just not being fair. I dont know. All I know is
that everytime I have to talk to my mom (twice in the past
three days) I end up crying and feeling even more worthless
than the night before. Whatever. I wish she could just pile
it on me all at once, so I could just cry for and hour
straight, and then be done with it. But no. We have to
spread out the "You are worthless" discussions over a
weeklong period. Yesterday it was the "I don't trust you"
talk, where I get to hear exactly how irresponsible I am.
Today it was the "You are lazy" talk. I would bet money
that on wednesday I get to hear the "I am so disappointed
in you" speech. Hooray, now I have a reason for living.
I'm sick of hearing what "potential" I have, what I "could
be." I dont want to hear about my downfalls every other
day. I just want my opinion to matter a little. I wish you
loved me all the time...not just for a week after I end up
in the hospital. I thought I liked me.
What the hell does she want from me? I get good grades, got
a scholarship into college, teach piano lessons to little
kids, drive my younger sisters to their dance and piano
lessons, put gas in the car, and I am basically a good kid.
I can understand how she'd be worried about me...but
overall, I am a pretty responsible kid. I don't know what
to do. She just wants more, and I am never good enough. I
put myself through hell to figure out who I am...and it is
never good enough. I don't even know anymore. I can't be
that perfect kid. I just can't do it. I'm sorry. I'm sorry.
I'm sorry. It is my fault, I know. I'm sorry mommy. I wish
I could be your perfect daughter. I'm sorry. I'm sorry...
What do I do?
Try a new drinks recipe site