September 9, 2003 | 4:51 PM Central Time
This padded room is of that I call my own

It's pretty bad when you go to work on your days off just to get away from them.

I had a major fight with my mother, today...

My friend Laura and I are supposed to got on a camping trip in Peoria, Illinois for week in October, and then go to a donation walk afterwards for her illness... Cysticfibrosis.

My parents have been saying that they will discuss it for weeks now, and today-- my mother made her decision which was "no."

I got up from the kitchen table, pushed my chair in, and walked to my room-- slamming the bedrooom door and locking it without saying another word.

A few minutes later, my mother knocked on my door and asked to come in. I, of course, took my sweetass time getting to the door and unlocking it-- but, I did eventually let her in and slammed it behind her. She said that the reason they didn't want me to go was because they care about me. My reply was...

"Oh, now you care about me? Is that why you keep me locked up in this house like a fucking prisoner? Is that way you support me so much? Is that why I pay my own medical bills, buy my own food and toiletries and practically starve in the process? You don't let me go anywhere--"

Mom: "You work full-time. Would you like to quit working so you can go back to public school?"

Me: "I'm not finished... you never let me go anywhere or do anything, you won't help me with my manic depression and you keep me locked up in here like I should be in a cage."

Mom: "You didn't print up your test results for the manic depression."

Me: "You want the fucking papers? Here..." and I shoved them at her.

She looked them over for a bit and said that if I wanted to show my doctor these, only show him certain ones since I had checked "yes" off to the question about thinking about death and suicide.

Mom: "He'll put you up in the seventh floor of St. Mary's."

Me: "Yeah, well, maybe I belong there more than here. Atleast I will have a nice, warm, padded room. All I am asking is to spend a week with my only friend and get away from here for a while..."

Mom: "I will discuss it some more with your father, and I will try to get you an appointment with your doctor a bit sooner."

Me: "Yeah, go ahead and discuss it. I still know what the answer is going to be."

Mom: "I said that I will discuss it."

And then she walked out... somewhere in this mess... I was also talking about either getting emancipated or going to JobCorps whether she liked it or not, and I also said that I didn't care if I ever saw them again. It's not like I have them now anyway, I have no one.

Welcome to my life... This padded room is of that I call my own.

before | after

---

Goodbye... and EFF YOU! - January 14, 2004
This... sucks. - November 30, 2003
High on Life... and hyper as hell. - November 28, 2003
Happy Thanksgiving, not so happy. - November 27, 2003... Thanksgiving Day
100 exciting things about me... hehe,.. not. - November 25, 2003