27 August 2007

Kiss My Grits, Mel!

I am so damn tired of being an adult, as in a fucking partner for my godmom. Dude, I've been an adult since I was born, having to deal with my parents foolishness, and that counts her too. She alternates between treating me like I'm her fucking husband to a three-year-old. I'm tired of dealing with her 30-year-old thoughts on Atlanta. Hi, it's changed. Areas have changed. I'm tired of dealing with her crap about "I don't know if I can handle a house" and when I say "fine, we'll just cancel that whole part of the search!" She goes "No, we need to look." Look, woman. You're 73-years-old. Grow a goddamn backbone! I shouldn't have to be the one to pick out everything! I'm not your husband! I'm your kid!

She won't even pick out the restaurant to eat at. She tells me to. Dude, seriously, grow a fucking pair. I'm 25, and I've been surrounded by her negativity all my life. And I love her, and I babied her so I created part of this mess, but come the fuck on! I'm so over this. She acts like I don't know a thing about house hunting. Oh, sure. I only look shit up daily, looking at prices and what we can afford. 220,000-250000 is not what it was five years ago, lady. The prices have gone up. Inflation happened. Please, I don't pull this shit out of my ass. I pay attention. I'm so over it!

I want my own place. I want my own space. I don't need someone up my ass 24/7. She just walks into my room, and sits down. Because she's bored. And she'll hound me to death. Seriously, I get the same nagging comment about six-seven times a day. Ugh, lady. I just. I'm so over this. I know I'm not in a position to be on my own. Hell, I don't even have a car since I sold it the other day (junkmonster's gone, thank god). But god knows I could use a way out. I'm seriously about to crack. It's compounding. Do you know how TIRED I am of listening to her human equivalent of "nom, nom, nom" EVERY. SINGLE. BITE. she takes? And a huge breath. And her fucking neurosis about her weight. Dude, you're 73. You're not gonna be a size 4 anymore. Get. The. Fuck. Over. It. I swear she has an eating disorder. She'll eat like a piece of cheese toast for bread, a candy bar for lunch, and half of whatever sets out when she makes for dinner. And she always goes "I'm so full." And don't get me started on her passive aggressive shit. I can't say one thing without it being held against me for fucking decades. Seriously, she brings up shit I did when I was like 11.

I'm 25. How about giving me a little credit? I've survived a pretty fucked up childhood, came out fairly mentally in tact, working on changing that even better. I'm just...so over this. Honestly, all I want is to be given a little downtime, for me. I shouldn't have to worry about her shit and mine, because she acts like I'm her partner. Dude, I get it. Finances are tight. But if I say something? I'm treated like shit, even if she wants my opinion and asks for it.

I'm going to lose my mind in the next couple months. I can feel it starting. I've gotten like this more than once. Hell, even in the past seven years, at least twice. I just. God, is it such a big deal to let me be a normal 25 year old every once in while? Really, is it that hard?

I'm about five minutes from a great big, giant crying jag. Because the stress is unreal.

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