Yeah, I'm Never going Home

WHO GETS MAD OVER A FUCKING POGO OMFG.

I ate 6 pogos out of a 10 pogo box and my sister throws a hissy fit. I come back like, twice a fucking year, are you really going to make such a big deal out of this?! Like, seriously, I don't see what the problem is. 300 days out of the year, you get all the food to yourself, but when I come back, you want to make a big fucking deal out of it. That's not just unreasonable, it's just greedy as fuck. And she said, "Mom only buys that when you come back," and I think that's clearly a fucking lie. Well, you know what? I'm not coming home anymore, so according to you, mom will NEVER buy you fucking food anymore. So now you don't just lose one pogo, you lose ALL of them due to your tightass attitude. Fuck.

And what's your fucking problem. I ask you to wash a dish since you're already washing the dishes, but apparently, you don't 'owe me anything' so I have to wash my dishes myself. You know, driving you around the city is just my hobby, it doesn't COUNT for anything. So you know what, drive yourself around next time. I don't owe you SHIT. Congrats, you've just lost your free ride.

So in conclusion, fuck my family. You fucking SUCK.

FML

I can't keep my mouth shut any longer. Although you might not want to hear what I have to say, I have to say it because keeping it in is making me incredibly unhappy. This is how I feel.

A few weeks ago, I was in the Ontario Debate Competition. I struggled to earn my place. Despite no former debate experience, I did my best and came out on top, against people who had training and previous experience. Everyone was impressed with the way I handled myself, and I was featured in three different papers around Hamilton. I felt like I earned something, not because of school, or books, but because of my own ability to express myself, and I was proud of that.

When we won, my friend CJ called his parents, and they both got on the line to congratulate him. Both parents were extremely happy to hear that their son was one of the best. When I told you, you said, "You shouldn't distract yourself with these things." My gold medal, which I was proud of, means nothing to me now - it's just a piece of metal. I don't feel proud of it, because you think it's a waste of my time.

I'm going to go to New Brunswick in a few weeks time. In what should be one of the defining moments of my life, I'm going to be unhappy because my own mother, the only person whose opinion actually matters to me, doesn't want me to be there. She would rather me be sitting in a library and studying, instead of representing my entire school and province in a national competition, with a chance to be the best in the country. Isn't that sad? I won't be able to compete to the best of my ability, because I'll be unhappy.

Not only that, but this memory of the competition will be stained forever by what you've done to me. In twenty, thirty years down the road, I'll be looking at my medal, telling my kids this story, and I'll remember how much you've hurt me.

Have you ever wondered why my housemates all go home on the weekends, but I choose to stay? It's because they want to go home, and they feel at home. I don't. I don't think this has ever been my home. Every time I come back, I feel unhappy, trapped, and depressed. It's a tense environment - either I'm fighting with you or Mei, or you two are fighting each other. I honestly can say that every moment I spend at home is like waiting for the next fight to break out. I used to be able to deal with it, when I didn't have any other choice. But now that I can run away, it makes it harder to stay, because I am obligated. I can remember so many moments over the years that I have been hurt. I come back for important events like Christmas, a time where we're supposed to show love and compassion, and instead I feel sick because I can't even talk to you.

I can't deal with the hypocrisy. You've raised me to be smart, creative, and most of all compassionate, so I find it very funny how you don't seem to respect your own teachings. I don't feel compassion in this house. I don't feel like I'm smart because nothing I do is ever good enough. And I don't feel creative, because every time I try to make something it's a distraction or it costs too much money. You might have taught me well, but you have not set a good example for me.

This week, I've spent the entire time in this house, unable to talk, unhappy and closed in my room. If I had stayed in Hamilton, I would have gone out with my friends, but I thought, for once, that coming back would be a good choice. I won't make that same mistake again.

Hey

Dear humanity,

Stop interfering with my life. People suck enough as it is, you don't have to make that worse. And stop jerking around with my friends. I'll kick your ass.

Love,

Justin