its really annoying. she spends all day on the computer buying endless expensive trinkets, and when i go on for a few minutes while she's out for a smoke break to upload pictures, she get mad because i'm on the computer all the time. then she goes off about how my dad cant get us to do anything and stuff only gets done if she's the one who asks us. well then why doesnt she ask us? she is a parent, its part of the job. unless she thinks she's exempt from responsibilities because she does so much other stuff. it kills me, what does she do lately? dont get me wrong she was amazing back when we were younger. she had everything organized. and ya i guess she can blame it on her depression, but still. she plays in her garden and buys shit on ebay. she thinks its so great and its so annoying when she's on the computer and we're all working in the kitchen and she keeps narrating the bidding like we give a damn which we so dont. i keep wondering when she'll stop. she does it in excess and doesnt realize it. she gets mad at me when i kept putting pictures on deviantart. and i told her strait up that she goes overboard, and it just bounced off her. she doesnt realize whats wrong about this. she cant just keep getting mad at all of us because suddenly we need to be able to read her mind and know what needs to be done. it doesnt work that way and maybe its a fault on your parenting style. you babied us and suddenly found out it was wrong and decided to gove us all this responsibility. ahhh
this is the reason i broke up with him in the first place. because it was so much stress and it just seemed hopeless. i know that's a harsh word but its true. he's got so much on his plate and i dont want any more on mine. i have my own set of worries i need to take care of. but i cant just turn him away. the way he opened up to me...it litteraly moved me to tears. i feel his dispair, his depression. he has nothing. but i dont want him to have no one too. at the moment i feel thats all i can do; give him the comfort of knowing that i'm here for him, that he has me. contrairy to his beleifs he hasnt lost me. if he really had, i wouldnt have seen him yestrerday, or tuesday, or any times before that. we wouldnt have acted or talked the way we did if he'd truley lost me. his words stung because i felt his pain through them. his feelings soaking the words and turning them a different colour. i never told him to get the fuck out of my life, but it hurt to know thats how he fe
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