9. So tired of fighting..
9:13 p.m. & Wednesday, May. 17, 2006
Mother went to hit me while I was driving the car this afternoon. I was following the Navigation System, and didn�t go the road she usually went. She started screaming at me saying that I was an airhead, how useless I was and that I shouldn�t rely on this �stupid machine�. I flinched when she moved in that familiar way towards my face.
She kept yelling at me afterwards saying that I was worthless, inept and somehow pathetic and I�d no longer be allowed the privilege to drive. I was forced to stop in the middle of the road on the highway so she could take over�
I�m too drained to write anything else tonight.. she�s killing me though. Every day my will to survive decreases. I don�t want to wage war with it anymore. �I�m so tired of fighting.
I want to remember What takes a lifetime to forget
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I am me. Nothing more, nothing less. I write. I don?t write beautiful things. I write about things that happen to me. Things that come from my soul. Deep inside me. This is my life. This is my angst. This is my happiness. This is my joy. This is my sorrow, and my pain. I don?t consider myself a 'poet' in any manner. I consider myself a struggling teen just trying to get by in life. I've only a few things left to hold onto. And writing is one of those...
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