After therapy yesterday I got into a huge fight with my mother. Talking to her is like walking on eggshells sometimes. I told her I felt like she controls me too much, and she flew of the handle. Ranting about how “god forbid she shows her love, care and concern.” And how “raising a child doesn’t come with a book. If such and such is wrong, there's no book that says turn to page 26 for directions how to fix it.”

And that’s exactly the point. The only way I’ve ever known any of the aforementioned emotions is through control. My parents, my extended relatives, numerous boyfriends, even some friends along the way. Control control control. So it isn’t any wonder why my most prominent coping mechanism is driven by control. The control everyone’s taken of me, and trying to grab a piece for myself.

Of course I apologized, meaninglessly, as always. I am not sorry, and I never am. But I still wanted to go to Jersey, and chances of that seemed slim for as long as we were arguing. Arguing with her has become second nature, so I can put up my sorry charade (and I’m pretty good at it too..) with different intentions.

I told my therapist I avoid expressing my anger and hatred towards my family because it just seems like such a cliché 17 year old Staten Island girl thing to do. She said my situation is much different than that of your average 17 year old girl.

I don’t feel like talking about this topic anymore. There’s more to be said, but bitching won’t change it. I have my countdown until I’m an adult started, and that’s about as close to salvation and freedom as I can get for now.

In Wet Seal I faced the awful fact that I’ve left the realm of 00 by about ½ an inch.
As the night proceeded I almost died on an escalator, got a dancing stalker, and came very close to getting my nose pierced. They didn’t pierce noses anywhere in the mall, otherwise it would be done.

I still am absolutely clueless as to what I want for Christmas.
Sure some clothing items and art supplies would be nice. Tony could use some accessories. I really want this:























And it would be my baby. But I don’t know if I’d be able to take it to and from school without some asshole sabotaging it in some way.

Meh. I thought I’d have more to say. But I usually am this void of words at this time in the morning after a sleepless night anyway.

Let this speak for me.



Real guys go for real down to mars girls.