Categories > Celebrities > Panic! At The Disco

Am I alone?

by xxPanicFanxx 8 reviews

Sorry guys just read it. I had to vent.

Category: Panic! At The Disco - Rating: G - Genres: Drama - Warnings: [!!] - Published: 2011-10-24 - Updated: 2011-10-25 - 770 words - Complete

0Unrated
Well isn’t this just wonderful. You’re fighting. Again, for the third time this week, and its only Monday night. It’s kind of funny actually, while you two are all centered on the hate and resentment against each other I’m trying to do my homework, trying to do something with myself. I just want to run into the living room right now and scream at you two about how you sound like absolute children, even your own children don’t fight as much. I want to run out there and tell you just to end this crumpled marriage and get a divorce. But no, I don’t. “It would be too hard on the family.” You say like you actually care when we both know you don’t. It’s kind of funny actually, like a bittersweet irony kind of thing. While you’re on the phone badmouthing him, and he’s out god knows where doing god knows what, your daughter and son, you remember them right, are crying in their rooms, and me well I’m just laughing; because while all of you fight and pick and poke at each other I’m trying to do something with my life. I’m trying to start a band and become famous. “Don’t get your hopes up.” You said like you know. You just don’t want you daughter to be happy right? Your daughter, as if. I barely feel like your child anymore. Heck if I didn’t live with you I wouldn’t even acknowledge your existence. You want to know why? Because I can’t stand hearing the fighting, the yelling, the swearing, and the breaking of glass and the crying. I can only take as much as a 13 year old can. You ask why I become so distant. You ask why I stay in my room on my laptop with my headphones in. And the thing I find the most funny, is you ask why I don’t bring my friends around. Well you really want to know why? Well it’s because I’m embarrassed. I’m embarrassed that you two will fight and then my friend will think I live in some nut house. There are you happy!? You know why I’m embarrassed of you! You know why I don’t like staying home! And then what happens when I need something. Say money perhaps for a hat or headphones or something like that. “Make your own money.” You say. “Get a job.” Well guess what mommy dearest. I can’t. Trust me I’ve tried to get a job. I know you’re going through some stuff with money so I tried to get a job. I couldn’t get hired anywhere. They said that 13 was too young to work. Well what happened when I begged for that certain hat? Do you remember how we got into a huge argument over 15 dollars? How you took away my phone and my laptop. MY phone that I paid for with MY money and MY laptop that I paid for with MY money. This also brings us to the topic of suicide. You said that if I ever had thoughts of suicide to come to right away. Ha like you would care. It’s not like I could talk to you anyway. I tried talking to you about selling some of my stuff that you bought me to earn enough money to go on a school trip to Washington D.C. and you just laughed in my face. How do you think that made me feel? To be laughed at by your own mother? Thinking about it now still brings tears to my eyes. What would happen if I came to you with my suicidal thoughts and told you everything. Would you laugh then? Would you laugh at your baby girl because she thought that she was so broken that the only way to fix it would be killing herself? Well would you? You probably would. Oops another door slams. I’m guessing that’s dad home. Well this should be fun to listen to. More screams, more swears, more glass breaking. Do you two feel good about yourself making other people feel small? Degrading each other then acting perfect in public? Like nothing happened at all. Like you two actually don’t hate looking at the other. Come on quite the charade you aren’t going to fool anyone. Oops I was wrong again. You fooled everyone. Well I hope you’re happy, because I sure as hell ain’t.
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