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wait til i find the remote part
Mar. 8th, 2005 09:29 pmBefore I get into the heavy stuff: I am permitted to squee! about getting recced. And I’m going to pimp ![[livejournal.com profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/external/lj-community.gif)
sawyerficrecs.
I thought I was supposed to go out and talk to my mother, Becky, Friday night, but there was some sort of mix up and she had said for me to call her. I missed out on going out with the girls and instead got upset because Becky had wanted to talk about stupid things when I needed to talk about college. She likes to make empty promises that amount to nothing. She also likes bring things that happened years ago and have no bearing on the present conversation.
Rick, my father, was supposed to drop off some tax papers for my financial aid meeting and help me fill out his half of the parent information for my applications. He said he was coming over at noon on Saturday. I planned the rest of my day around it and he didn’t show up.
To my parents I’m a toy. A toy they don’t care about; one that they use against each other because they don’t want the other to have it.
To my father I’m the toy that he ignores because he knows it’s always there at the bottom of the bin. Every once in a while, if he’s bored enough, he’ll pay attention to be and make a huge show that he cares and loves me in his screwed up way. But like all of his toys, I end up back in the bottom of the bin until the next time he feels like taking me out. He likes to think that he loves all his toys, but it’s only because they’re his that he loves them.
To my mother I’m the new toy she had a long time ago that’s old and worn out that she doesn’t want anymore. She’s like this with everything: cars, houses, appliances, everything. It’s just how she is. At first she loved me because I was new, but after a while the novelty wore off and she wants the better model that’s out on the market. I honestly think she stopped caring about me at 6 when she dropped me off at my grandparents and didn’t come back for half a year.
Toys break anyways.
sawyerficrecs.I thought I was supposed to go out and talk to my mother, Becky, Friday night, but there was some sort of mix up and she had said for me to call her. I missed out on going out with the girls and instead got upset because Becky had wanted to talk about stupid things when I needed to talk about college. She likes to make empty promises that amount to nothing. She also likes bring things that happened years ago and have no bearing on the present conversation.
Rick, my father, was supposed to drop off some tax papers for my financial aid meeting and help me fill out his half of the parent information for my applications. He said he was coming over at noon on Saturday. I planned the rest of my day around it and he didn’t show up.
To my parents I’m a toy. A toy they don’t care about; one that they use against each other because they don’t want the other to have it.
To my father I’m the toy that he ignores because he knows it’s always there at the bottom of the bin. Every once in a while, if he’s bored enough, he’ll pay attention to be and make a huge show that he cares and loves me in his screwed up way. But like all of his toys, I end up back in the bottom of the bin until the next time he feels like taking me out. He likes to think that he loves all his toys, but it’s only because they’re his that he loves them.
To my mother I’m the new toy she had a long time ago that’s old and worn out that she doesn’t want anymore. She’s like this with everything: cars, houses, appliances, everything. It’s just how she is. At first she loved me because I was new, but after a while the novelty wore off and she wants the better model that’s out on the market. I honestly think she stopped caring about me at 6 when she dropped me off at my grandparents and didn’t come back for half a year.
Toys break anyways.
