The Twelfth of Fucking March

Prepare for massive amounts of bad language.

But this day was shit. I'm completely used to being ignored by my family. No one ever hears anything I say, and I've come to terms with it. But when I go through an entire day of no one responding to anything I say and when they do hear me they just think I'm mumbling, it really irritates me. Being the middle child since the age if eight, I have grown up knowing that I was the least important, even if they say that I'm not. But I'm nothing special, so they have no argument.

So they wake me up at godforsaken hours of the morning on weekends because everyone else is up and I don't eat right after I'm up, I don't do much in general at that point. But on weekends, I am expected to join in the family activities and have a genuine smile while I'm doing so. I fucking hate weekends. And the thing is, they wake me up and we don't even do anything until two in the afternoon.

My brother moved out over the weekend and since I'm the least important, I was sent to follow him in the truck with his bed so that he would have his truck and his work van at his new place. Alright, it's whatever. But if I had stayed home, I would have logged onto my online class and realized that the test I thought was due on Saturday was actually due on Friday. And if Dad gave a rat's ass about me, he might have realized that I did have some things I needed to do today and that I skipped Paige's party because trying to leave the house at night by myself is more of a hassle than it's worth.

So I stay at home, pretending that I'm happy to be here. And pretending that I love being alive and pretending that life isn't bad. And sure, my life is in far better shape than most, but I fucking hate it here. Half the time I just feel like making myself disappear from the world cause I'm sure that it would be easier. 

I realize that this post has absolutely no flow. But it's not like anyone reads it anyway.