I’m not sure how much longer I can preserve my sanity.

Yes, ooh, this is going to be an emo post- just shut the fuck up, I need to rant.

Well, I’ve finished moving into my new house with everyone – my sister, little brother, mum, dad, and mum’s on-again-off-again-boyfriend/fuck-buddy/horrible-man/most-hated-enemy/I-don’t-even-know-what-he-is-anymore – and it’s not going so well. I’m used to living with just my dad, which meant I had lots of me time and quiet time. Here, I don’t. My brother’s a screaming sook, my sister is an incredibly clingy drama queen, my mum doesn’t know how to knock when she wants to come in, and that oaf she lives with (who happens to be my brother’s dad) comes in to randomly assault/rape me with stuffed animals. My dad’s perfectly fine.

It’s not much, I know, but there’s more.

My mum’s other on-again-off-again boyfriend (my sister’s dad) could be moving in with us all in this cramped space with his other daughter, who happens to be another goddamn troubled teen. I mean one of those teens who are likely to get knocked up at age 16 because they give it to everyone, or get arrested for doing drugs. Yeah, and if it happens, she’s sleeping in my room.

Good bye, what little bit of happy time I have left in this fucked up world!

So in the end, we get:

My sister’s dad
My dad
My brother’s dad
Me and my brother and sister
And of course, our mum

…all living together.

Fuck.

Plus, my brother's dad could be losing his job today, so we have to put up with him all goddamn day long.

I haven’t been writing to my blog very much, but that’s only because I’ve been busy packing- oh, who am I kidding? I haven’t packed much at all. I’m a procrastinator. I’ve been watching the idiot box, playing games, writing, sleeping, enjoying my freedom while I still can. Making babies cry. Trolling dumbshits online. The usual.

I don’t really know what to write about anymore. I have no hate-rants, no long speeches, no interesting stories…

Ehh, screw it. I’ll write something later. Peace.

Well, things seem to be working in my favour for once; sort of. We’ve started moving into our new house – it’s grown on me – and I’ve finally had my x-rays taken, I no longer need to see my shrink and I’ve been happier in life, I’ve noticed. I haven’t cried in a few days, and those rare instances where I thought I would, the tears never came. I think I’m just too damn happy to cry over nothing. I hope this isn’t just a phase.

I’m completely obsessed with the song People = Shit by Slipknot (got it on replay right now, baby); a strange song for a happy person to be listening to, I know. Just because I’m happy doesn’t mean I have to lose my awesome taste in music. Har-har. No, I was being serious.

Rap = Shit. Just saying. It’s my opinion.

Speaking of music… some time ago I decided I would take up guitar again and learn how to sing, but about a week into it I lost interest. Well, I’m back into it now – just the singing. Right now I can’t sing for shit, but I’ll learn, you’ll see.

Yes, I know these first few entries have been pretty short, but I don’t really feel like taking a dive into all of that depressing shit right now. Remember. Happy. Me.

My lesson for the day:

If you say a word too much, it loses all meaning. Actions speak louder than words, anyway.

I flexed a bit of creative muscle today and finished the first part of a four-bit mini series I made up – it’s the first actual thing I’ve written in months (aside from this and the last post in my blog) and I’m very proud of myself! I’m extremely anal retentive when it comes to editing, and it usually results in me finishing late or messing the whole thing up altogether, but I’m proud to say I only edited four times. Huzzahs are in order.

I have some good news for me: this coming Thursday is officially the last day I have to see my psychologist. It’s been a rough two years, but I’ve finally gotten myself to the point where I think: fukket, I don’t want to see these people anymore. Hopefully that day I’m also getting my long-awaited back x-ray.

This morning when I went to stick a spoon in my cereal, I ended up sticking it in the oven.

My lesson for the day:

Don’t stick your penis in an electric socket. Just… don’t.

I haven’t written anything in what feels like eons – all thanks to my shifty little friend, Mr. Writer’s Block – so my skills are most likely going to be a little rusty at first, but, given time, they should gradually improve. What inspired me to begin writing again was, well, reading. I know it sounds kind of corny, but it’s true; chances are you can’t write any better if you haven’t read a good story or two. Or ten.

I’m sort of slumming around home at the moment, so I have a lot of free time on my hands that I usually waste playing any Final Fantasy game that I can get my mitts on. I know I should be doing something constructive with my time, but I’m a rebel; I play games in lieu of setting houses on fire – which I actually have done before, but I was two (and I got smacked HARD for it) – and doing graffiti on the school walls.

I'm nothing like a classic rebel; I am me, and that is rebel enough.

My lesson for the day:

No matter how sure your chiropractor is of something, never ever let him give you an adjustment with taking some x-rays of the problem area first; he might fuck it up even worse.

Ow.