I hate the things I'm supposed to call "Parents". Those detestable beings that sneak up on you in the middle of the night and search through your stuff while you're unconscious.
Then, the sneaky little bastards have the audacity to bust you for it by asking you a simple question, the next day, something like "Do you need cash? Or do you have?" To which I reply "Nope, I have none." Why? Because I need to buy another pack, and I had concocted the perfect way to get money for it without raising any suspicions on the parents behalf. Only thing I forgot to take into account was that my parents are DICKS.
Because my parents checked my wallet to see if I had money on me, and because I didn't know they had, and lied about having money, I'm now "grounded". I put grounded in quotations because, with my parents, going out is a fucking hassle to begin with. It's next to impossible to convince them that I'm not doing anything wrong (which I usually am). Now, I'm grounded, and they're apparently going totake away my debit card, which is a bitch move 'cause that money is actually mine, the money I make from work and they have no right to take it from me. Fuck, why couldn't I be blessed with white parents?
Or better yet, why couldn't I just come to be, without any parents. And just magically, survive, and grow and live happily ever after.
On the bright side, I've met the sweetest guy ever. I absolutely love talking to him and I hope we can grow to be great friends.
A couple posts ago, I mentioned the paintball party, and how the referee started to hit on me. Well, I gave him my number, he later found me on facebook, and now we talk. I have to admit, at first I thought he was going to be a really stupid person. This sounds horrible, and self-absorbed, but I did. He's got the look of a hardcore stoner, and he wears "gangster" clothes (i.e., baggy jeans, huge sweater, the baseball cap thingy with the sticker on it etc.). He started telling me about his life, how it's pretty fucked up, but he's starting to change it- turn it around now. I was not expecting him to tell me too much about it, but he did. He opened up like a book and just.. sang. He's been through some tough times, and I think he's alot stronger for it. But that's not the point. Point is, he's a real person. He thinks, and, it's hard to explain. I sound like a horrible person right now, and I hate myself for it, but it doesn't sound half as bad in my head.
Oh, and by the way, I lied earlier in this post. The fuckers didn't go through my stuff while I was sleeping. This is because I hardly sleep anymore, having been going to bed at around 4am each night lately. No, rather, they wait till I'm at swim practice to go through my stuff. The only reason I lied about this in the post was because it didn't go with the story mode I was writing about them in. It wouldn't have sounded have as dramatic if I said "Those detestable beings that sift through your things while you're swimming laps".
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