Make Me Wanna Die

I spent the night at my grandmother’s last night. I’m not ready to look at him. I just got done crying my eyes out and packing my stuff to run away. But I had called Steph and one of my other friends and they calmed me down. My father had blamed it all on my friends. Apparently they planted all the suicidal thoughts and thoughts of hurting myself in my head. They were the only ones keeping me alive. I was so angry at him for blaming everyone but the person who really deserved blame. Himself. I couldn’t deal with him. He had kicked me out of his house. He has a problem, and he won’t admit it to himself. God I hate that man. How could he do this to me!? I get good grades, I have never gotten detention, never skipped, never done drugs, and I don’t drink or smoke. What more can you ask? I’m in smart classes, I don’t talk back as much as I’d like to. I don’t know what he wants from me. But now, there’s no way he’s getting it. He wants to act like a bad kid? I’ll show him a bad kid. He’ll regret everything, and see what mistake he made. I was a good kid. Not anymore. I’m not going to make an effort. I’ll get horrible grades, I’ll sneak out. I’ll do drugs, I’ll get wasted, I’ll do whatever I want. Screw him. I’m going to bed, I’m tired. Goodnight.