When I was in high school I had but only one concern, having fun. I wasn't interested in boys or how I looked. All I cared about was where the next party was. That's it. Life was simple. If I was bored at school, I took off with my friends. If my parents pissed me off, I yelled "fuck you" and left in pursuit of a drink. If I had a boyfriend that wanted to tell me what I could and could not do, I looked at him with a "you've got to be fucking kidding me" look as I held my hand up to my ear asking for them to repeat themselves because I didn't quite hear them. Only to tell them that things weren't working out. In high school it was predicted that I would remain single, childless and rule the world by the time I was 25. Someone has some serious splain' to do.
I seriously ask if it is entirely too much to ask to have a nice simple life filled with cocktails, family and friends shooting the shit while pointing, laughing and making fun of people? Am I unrealistic to think I can come home to house that is relatively clean, have my partner help me cook dinner and then spend time with me? Maybe I'm crazy to think there is a man out there who will like me enough to want to talk to me and hear all my crazy stories but will still want to fuck the living hell out of me at night....?
I work like a fucking illegal Mexican on a summer day in the fields of California. I have my ass ridden by an insecure dick head of a boss who would love to fire me because I won't hide how much I fucking hate him. If I could kill any one person with a guarantee to get away with it, I'd hesitate in making my choice between my boss 'Sluggo" and "Mother Fucker", the father of my younger son, who is trying to take my kid in an attempt to avoid paying child support. So after a hard day of having my balls broken with Sluggo I drive like an one eyed amateur Nascar driver on crack through Dallas traffic to pick up my younger son. I then break my neck to go to the fucking unhappiest place on the mother fucking earth, the grocery store, so I can make dinner only to come home to a filthy fucking kitchen. I then make dinner, serve it and eat it without an appearance from Fuckface. I am then rewarded by cleaning the dishes alone. All I ask is that Fuckface come home at a decent hour say 6:30 but that mother fucker won't come home before 7:30. For he has to "work" at the local bar. I also ask that he ask his kids to pick up after themselves. I know it's hard with the little one with her being 8 or 9. But the older one is fucking 18 years old. She can't fucking wash the dishes she uses when she eats. She can't close a box of cereal or put it back in the cabinet. She leaves her hats, hair bows, jewelry and shoes everywhere. Last night she opened her birthday cards, one of which had these gay ass Pokemon cards in it. She opened the fucking cards and the mother fucking packages are still out on the table as I fucking type. This is a little girl who leaves her dirty clothes on the bathroom floor and throws her dirty tampons in the cabinet under the sink!!!! Don't even get me started on her room! I ask that for ONCE he take me out for a drink after work or help me with dinner. I ask that he fucking talk to me. Like really talk to me, the way he used to before he was sticking his dick in me.
Please understand that I don't write any of this to get sympathy nor am I trying to play the part of victim. I'm not a easy person to be with either. I mean seriously...my nickname since I was a child has been Brat. My kids are lazy, by my design and my younger one has a serious attitude problem. I know, I know. Apple. Tree. To which I say, "Fuck you." I only tell my stories so that if there is by chance another woman out there stuck in the same pile of shit I am, that she not feel alone. I know things need to change and trust that I am working on change. But change is never as easy or as quick as we want it to be. I find it cruelly ironic that as a teenager living it up that all I ever wanted to do was to be an adult so I could do whatever I fucking wanted. Now that I'm an adult I see how I have no freedom. I'm nothing more than a slave to my kids, my job, my family and to all the responsibilities of life. Just a prisoner of time and it's demands.
After my daily duties tonight I wanted to take a shower so I could cry. As I sat in the shower wanting desperately for the water to hide my tears and the sound of the shower to drown out my sobs, I realized I had no right to cry. I'm not a victim. I wasn't given this life as if I didn't have a say in my destiny. And the last time I checked, no one has been holding a gun to my head forcing me to stay. No. I am a grown ass woman who made a series of choices that has lead me to this SERIOUS mother fucking detour. I have no idea what my next move is but I do know that I have no right to cry. At least I have a starting point, even if it's weak.
Life is a bitch and death is her sister. Growing up? Totally fucking overrated.