Emotional Roller-coasters are not worth the price of admission.

Title says it.

I knew it was going to be a horrible thing to go through my old things beside my mother. She made a comment that cut me to the bone, starting with the fire of anger: "You're never moving out, your credit score is too horrible. It'll stay with you for 7 years, you know." Yes, mom, I know. and now I know that you have absolutely no faith in me, your one and only daughter. Ever.

I at first was mad enough that I stormed into my room and threw down what I was holding. literally, threw. because, if I would have stayed there, I would have thrown it elsewhere, and something important could have gotten broken. (Read: something that isn't mine.) I've been in my room since. I have wanted to be violent, or do something physically exhausting, but have not been able to find anything. (dad's already shoveling the snow, so I can't put my frustrations out that way.) I can't exactly run away, or go anywhere, because as soon as I do I won't want to go home. or I'll just show up at Loki's work. and that's bad for Loki, as well as whoever else I come in contact with. I don't want to wreck anybody else's lives.

Then I got numb. I couldn't feel anything. I kept myself rooted to my chair, because I didn't want to move for fear of falling back into anger or what happened next, the depression of realizing that... ultimately... that bitch is right. I'm fucking stuck here because I'm a god-forsaken idiot that isn't worth the air she's breathing. Wound up texting Loki and told him what happened... I hadn't thought of hurting myself, but he mentioned to not cut... it made me want to do it, so badly... but no. Too messy. I will inconvenience people by leaving my watered-down blood everywhere. If I'm going to end myself, I'll do it some other way. Though sharp and pointies do still look very inviting, so I'm staying put.

I feel like I should have never existed. and in truth, I shouldn't have. My sperm donor fucked my egg donor, and I just happened to come into existence. The fact that I'm not supposed to exist is further illustrated by the fact that my sperm-donor ran away screaming like a little girl as soon as my egg donor told him that I existed. Hell, even my egg donor didn't want me. So I'm stuck with these people. Who don't rightly care about my emotional well-being, and just wish I would move out to make their lives easier.

Because let's face it, the world's air is polluted enough without me breathing.

... ok, now I have to take a statement back: My father actually does give a shit. When he told me to tell Loki something before he came over, he actually asked what was wrong. Couldn't say anything, though, because as soon as I vent to him I'll get in more shit later. Because "I started it" by storming off in anger rather than throwing something across the room. I'm sorry, but it took quite a bit of effort just to walk away, thank you very much.

... but yeah. I'm done. Think what you want. Just... don't try to 'make things better' for me in the long-run, because it's not going to work out. It never does. Don't get my hopes up. I don't want to hurt any more than I already do.