Things I Hate

I know none of y'all give a shìt about my (many) issues, so if you don't give a shìt, go the hell away.

I already know this is going to sound really dumb, but I don't care. I need to vent, and I'm sort of a hormonal bìtch right now.

So, I loathe Sundays. They're the worst part of the week. I know you're thinking it's because of church and Sunday School. Okay, maybe part of it is. Maybe, if you keep up with my insanity, you think it's because of my insane choir director, Mrs. G.

But no. I didn't have choir today. What I did have, however, was small group. I hate small group. Basically, all the 8th grade girls in our church get together for Bible-y junk.

It isn't the Bible-y stuff I hate. It's the people. Sure, our leader, Mrs. Eugenia, is the sweetest woman ever, but not everyone is. Everyone who actually goes to small group has a clique.

They all go to Greenville Middle and League. Meanwhile, I'm stuck at Shannon Forest, the smallest school ever. So i don't know many people.

And then Brice and Olivia and Emma and all the other idiots just talk about, "Oh, did you see so and so on Thursday? He was being weird!"

I have no clue who Oliver or Garret or Kimberly are. I frankly don't care. But I end up in the kitchen, annoying/boring Mrs. Eugenia because I don't have anyone to talk to.

It doesn't seem like that big a deal to y'all, I realize, but it is to me. And I just know that Mrs. Eugenia thinks I'm super annoying. And, seeing as my parents are the super-Christians of Greenville, I go every week.

And I hate it.

So much, that this week (I haven't been in the three weeks due to various cancellations/conflicts), I begged my mom not to make me go about five minutes before we left.

I even offered to help decorate! I hate Christmas decorating. But, my mom and dad decided that I should sit down with them like an adult to discuss the pros and cons of going. What pros? Last time I checked, it was all cons!

On top of that, whenever I try to have a grown up conversation with them, they're busy. Trust me, I've tried. So, I was forcibly strapped into the car and drove off the Mrs. Eugenia's house.

I was crying on the way there, trying to suppress it and failing miserably. So, of course, I get into the driveway, and my entire face is red. I don't feel like going in there and explaining to everyone that I was crying because I don't feel included.

I'd seem like a spoiled, rotten person. Plus, then they'd shower me with attention, and that'd be awkward.

So, I'm in my car in the driveway, trying to calm down and failing, when my mom puts the car in reverse. My heart literally leapt for joy. She pulled out and started driving back home.

After the initial joy, I was struck by the iron fist of a guilty conscience.

"I - can - go - back - I'm - fine!" I was saying between sobs, trying to compose myself. My mom doesn't say anything, just keeps driving.

I was all out sobbing by this point, from relief, memories, and guilt. I knew Dad was going to be mad when I got home for skipping it.

So, as soon as the car is stopped, I run out of the car and into my house, up the stairs to my room. I curl up on my bed and cry for five minutes before I hear my dad knocking on my door.

Damn. Sobbing uncontrollably, I get up and unlock the door and let him in. He gives me the "I'm-disappointed-in-you" lecture and tells me to sit down with them next time and explain why I don't want to go.

And now, thirty minutes later, I'm still crying. A lot. And, it's 6:40 and I'm not even a smidge hungry. If y'all know anything about me, its that I'm a fattie who loves to eat. And I feel like if I eat, I'll throw up.

I think I'll just sit here in my dark, dark room and cry until I become so dehydrated that I shrivel up into a GraceAnne-raisin.

That is all.