Done

I'll admit. This is a rant blog post.

I am entirely sick of being... well I think I'm just sick of being here. Everyday my dad comes home and says, "Did you clean? This house looks like a mess!" Everyday, I do small things. I do a few loads of laundry. I vaccum. I sweep and mop. I get wood so he can have his nightly fires. I go to the store and get Jak food so he can keep on living. I make sure they have tea. I clean things up from the floor. Make sure Jak is taken care of. Make sure Mom doesn't feel homicidal. Make sure John is still alive, even when no one knows he is in his room playing Call of Duty.

Everyday I get belittled. And I am sick of it. And for some damn reason, Merlin knows why, I don't feel like I can talk to anyone about any of this. I feel like a servant in this house. Sure, I don't have a job. Sure, I'm not in college yet. Sure, I don't have my own fucking car. Sure, I can do this stuff. But I am sick of being treated like all I am is a fucking servant (and the fact that I even added the 'g' in fucking tells you how serious I am).

I feel like the only way I can even be a little appreciated is if I'm not here. If I am gone. I don't even think it matters where I go. Just that I'm not at home. When I'm home, I feel like shit. I feel belittled, under appreciated, and to be honest, at times I feel unloved.

Pretty much the only reason I actually do stuff around this damn "house," is because I think that if I do, I'll get a simple "Thank you." I don't think people realize just how much words mean to people. And it kills me that everyday, I feel like I need to read a book, or a fanfiction, or watch so many tv shows, just so that I can escape from this.. Whatever the hell I end up calling it. Because it certainly isn't home.