Angry

I woke up today and the light was coming in around the blinds. It looked cold on the walls. I woke up thinking of snow. Of course there is no snow here. But I remember snow. I don't remember any real specifics about why it is bad, I just know that it is. And I know that I resent the sorry excuse for parents that set me up to live this way. Sometimes it seems like every moment I ever spent with them has tainted every single thing that was in my environment at the time.

After I fought my way through the 'snow', I had to listen to the husband yelling at the baseball game on TV. Dad and brothers. Then the husband burned up food in the kitchen again and did not turn on the exhaust fan or open a window. The Grandparent's kitchen.

I'm sick and goddamn tired of this shit. Even though I have pretty much always lived this way, I can't imagine spending the rest of my life like this. I won't do it. I refuse. I really hate my family. Right now I would love nothing better than to tell my mother, in my most cutting and offensive manner, why she is the object of my hatred. Yes, I would delight in the turmoil it would cause her. Fucking bitch. Why do I feel like persecuting her and not my father? Just because she is alive. I guess that makes us even.