SSDD.

Went out to Sushi 85 today for Steven's b-day dinner. All you can eat sushi. It was pretty good, haha. I got so full that I had to look AWAY from the food to keep myself from feeling nauseous. Those bastards almost tipped wasabi into my drink. Went to Vicky's house afterwards to play some Monopoly. I lost first, only because Steven is such a baller real estate strategist. Oscar and I bounced around midnight, took him home, sang LP the whole way and just got back to my dwelling. Ready to face the music? I'm always ready. I'll play the god damn encore.




Moms is trippin' again, over something that shouldn't even matter by now. Midnight is not even considered late anymore in today's terms. In fact, for most people, the partying doesn't start TILL midnight into the wee hours of the morning. I can't stress enough that at least I come home, no matter how late it is. It's like she doesn't give a fuck about what I'm trying to prove. All she wants is to slam me with shit and constantly deny the fact that I'm able to think for myself. Okay, Tommy is the one who can't seem to watch his own ass. You should worry about HIM more than me. Who's always home and in bed every single night? Yeah. Who doesn't drink and smoke? Who has the lowest premium on his life insurance? Who has good driver discounts and a clean record? That's what I fucking thought. She never sees the bigger picture. I'm always the bad guy around here. Everything I do is always liable. 


Sometimes I seriously think she does this arbitrarily, assuming every little thing to be insidious. She hears a girl's voice, she thinks I'm fooling around with her. You know Mom, if I ever get lucky enough to find love again, you'll scare it away. You say you care for me, but 50% of the time, you're really not. You don't even see what makes me happy, or what makes me sad. You're always trying to do things so you can satisfy some need to maintain authority. You're always right. If you're not, you'll complain to your own mother and sisters, then they'll come at me and slap me around. You're always questioning why I never seem to do anything right?


Well, you want to know why?


It's because you never let me think for myself. You're always trying to control my mind for me. When I fight back, you don't understand why I do. 


And I don't think you ever will. If this tussle has to go on till the day one of us passes away and turns into an epitaph, then so be it. 


Like George Carlin said, "If you were born on this Earth, you're guilty, fuck you. End of report, next case. Next fucking case."