Sunday 5 April 2009

Home Is Where The Hell Is.

Frustration is basically the word of the day. 

Strike that.

Word of the YEAR! 

    I had a mild mental break-down this evening [hence, I am posting this 20 minutes before midnight] and had to have a good snuggle and talk with the boy. Everything was actually pretty find and dandy until about 10PM, when I got home. (I use the word home here, loosely, to describe a place where I live and keep all my shit. [Sorry, I'm an adult and I curse. Go cry to your mama]) I woke up this morning at the ass-crack of dawn, went to Bible class [amazing way to start the day], had free lunch with the boy and his dad, came home, took an epic-ly long nap, went to fellowship [amazing way to end the day], came "home". Unfortunately, my sister also lives here. My sister, for lack of a better way to describe her, is a bit like the devil. [which isn't to say that I don't love her to death, because I do. She's just an enormous bitch] My sister and I are nothing alike, and therein lies the frustration. I'm stuck in this house with her for, at the very least, the next year. [unless, of course, she moves out again, by some stroke of miraculousness] So, coming 'home' is like walking into a lions den...being thrown to the wolves...uhm...Hell. Yea, that's it, Hell.  
To make matters worse, I've been sick for over a month. I'm having an epic battle with my anemia, as well as a sinus infection, as well as allergies/a really bad cold. 

Anyway, that's it for my whining today. [I have about 8 minutes left to post this while it's still 'today', so we'll move onto happier topics] Pardon me while I gush here for a minute, but my boyfriend is an amazing human being. I am retardedly in love with this man. I know it sounds cliche-ish and silly and probably a bit naive, but I can only describe him as my soul mate. We don't share all the same interests, but we've never had a fight. We argue, but usually for fun. I've probably only ever been angry with him once. And, just for a little background, I avoided dating him for a very long time. I was afraid I would let myself get hurt again and that he was just trying to get laid. How incredibly, delightfully wrong I was....

p.s. I just noticed I use an insane amount of parentheticals...
p.p.s. I'm going to try to start utilizing "tags"... it probably won't stick. 

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