Thank You God

& my twitter reads as following:

OHMYFREAKINGOD. My mother is so psychotic. SORRY I COULDN'T BEEPING HEAR YOU BECAUSE I HAD HEADPHONES IN. And yes I'm bout to go on a rant. Yea, I get that you can't move right now cuz you're old and cripple, and I was being nice about it, but now you just screwed yourself over. I wish she was beeping paralyzed so I could say what I wanted to her and she could sit there and LOOK at me. Let her see how that crap feels. DONT, yell at me like a dog, and then get mad at me cuz I'm not happy about it. Lord have MERCY, I cant wait to get out of this house. And when I'm out I PROMISE, I will never ever ever ever be back to see her again. And my son will only have one grandma. I hate her. If anyone is wondering why I'm so hateful, come spend a week in my house with this female dog and I bet you'll be mad at the world too. I've said it before, and I'll say it again. Living here is not making me stronger, and when I get out I'll be so broken down. But thank you God for making me as weak as you wanted me to be, right? I'm done.

Mhmm.

Her hip went out because she's that old, and at first I didn't mind doing things for her. Actually, we'd been having a good week up until now. And so apparently she called my name six times and I couldn't hear her because I had headphones in. So when I finally went down there she started screaming about how am I supposed to hear the door if I cant hear her calling my name. CLEARLY, I didn't think about that when I put the headphones in, but she proceeded to talk to me like a dog anyway. And when I walked out she had the nerve to say "sorry to inconvenience you." Yea, whatever, I bet you are sorry. Sorry you had me, and sorry you made me hate you shortly thereafter.

Me and her relationship has been so BUSTED, since I was old enough to know whether I did or did not like her. Soo... sixth grade? Yup. Its pretty upsetting to people who haven't lived through it, but now days I'm just over it. We aren't ever going to have the relationship I needed when I was fifteen, sixteen, now seventeen. It makes sense to need to have a decent relationship with your mother, right? I'm not just bitter and hurt for no reason, right?

Its funny because yesterday I told everyone at church that me and my mother had been civil to each other, and then Shelby even prayed about it with me. So of course it makes sense for the devil to attack me. I know. But he wins. I give up. And let me say it again: Thank you God for making me as weak as you wanted me to be.

But I'm not mad at God, I'm pissed about everything else.