The End of My Story

La vie c'est de la merde


Other than my shitty school life I’ll move on to my shitty life at home.

My mom bitched at me all day today. Not surprising.

She yelled at me about cleaning the kitchen, although i did clean the kitchen I mistakenly left the cleaning spray on the counter. She went on and on. It went from her yelling about the spray to how I didn't clean it well enough anyway, I'm irresponsible and I'll never amount to anything and I'll be just like my father, a bum.

She should win an award for mother of the year right?

Let me explain what my mother is like.

She is a tall fit fair skinned blonde. She’s one that would be told that she should be magazines. She’s one that would get a wealthy middle aged man to sit at her table if she were alone in a restaurant. You know the type, lawyers, and real estate agents, doctors who have the salt and pepper full head of hair. They’re tall go to the gym all of the time and take expensive vacations every other month.

In fact she has attracted men like that and has left my brother to watch me when I was still in elementary school.

Here’s the funny part she didn’t tell us her plan until the day she left and she did that by leaving a note taped onto the refrigerator. It said,

“I’ve left for Paris. I’m sure you don’t know this, but it’s one of the most romantic places anyone can go. Au revoir mes chéris.”

That’s all it said.

My mother knows that everyone adores her she knows everyone loves her she knows every man wants her and she knows every woman wants to be her. She just knows it for a fact and has no problem telling others about it. I hate everything about her. Thinking about her for too long makes me physically ill.

I’m done, I’m getting pissed off and my stomach hurts.