Thursday, 23 October 2008

Nothing ever changes


Current mood:  depressed
 
Warning: Long, depressing blog.  Please ignore this if all you can do is make fun of me, and say I'm making things up to get attention.  This is just a way of getting it off my chest.  I'm not asking anyone to read it, so clear off if you can't understand that I'm not just attention-seeking.
I feel there's no reason to live any more.  I am so depressed that I just don't know what to do with myself.  I'm scared to write to any of my "friends" on the internet in case my misery rubs off on them, and they start to hate me...and now I fear I've lost a lot of you anyway, just by ignoring you all.
Nothing is going right with the other house.  I can't be bothered with writing out all the details, but Picton has put all the wrong radiators in the wrong places, got boilers that are much bigger than he promised, given us over FORTY electrical sockets (Why the heck do we need that many?) and now expects US to buy the covers for them, charged us £2.50 for pots of paint we could get from Tesco ourselves for 84p...  The list goes on.
Now he's found someone to fix the broken fireplace (the same people who Mum looked up weeks ago, but decided were located too far away)...and expects us to pay for the repairs to that too!  But it was his builders who broke it!  Why should we pay?  Fixing the fireplace will also take SEVERAL MONTHS, and Mum is refusing to move house until it's fixed on the wall.
Hence, we're almost certainly not moving until well into the new year, and I don't get so much as a bed or anywhere to sit in that time.
Everybody is stressed, and picking on ME.  First off, my father.  I made a simple joking comment (following on from some conversation about the house, where David said he was going to get something done about all the mistakes Picton has made) about how David never gets anything done.  Over the years, he has promised me swimming lessons, computer classes, horse-riding lessons, drama classes...  None of which have ever come to anything, of course.
"Well, it's your fault!" David snapped.  "Why don't you look those things up on the computer instead of looking at ponies all day?"  Er...  1) I don't look at ponies all day.  I occasionally go and talk on the Arena, but mainly I'm looking at things to do with voice acting, or social networks like Myspace and Facebook.  And 2) We're talking about the late 1990's and early 21st century when he promised me all these things.  I wouldn't even have a computer if not for Nick giving me one for my 15th birthday.  How was I supposed to look up this stuff?  I have looked up drama classes and amateur dramatics groups in the surrounding area, but everything I find within an affordable price range is for under-16s or over-18s with former experience.  And there's no point looking up horse-riding because Mum doesn't like the "snobby people" involved.
Meanwhile, Mum is driving me up the wall in every other way she can think of to get at me.  Realising we weren't going to be moving in the near future, I gave in and bought a cheap microphone (£3.50, in fact!) at Tesco.  But of course, it's not much use to me.  Sure, it records in better quality than the broken camera, but I can't send anything voice-wise via e-mail with dial-up anyway, so I still can't take part on the VAA forum.  It would be good for voice messenger on MSN, but nobody's been online for me to try it out, and I can hardly hold private conversations while sitting on the lounge floor in front of my parents!
I downloaded audacity and have been messing around a little, just seeing what I can do.  Mum asked me what I was doing, so I told her about the amateur voice acting, and how I couldn't even try it until we moved house.  "And why would you want to do that anyway?", she asked, laughing.  She knows of my dreams, and loves to make fun of them.  But why does she feel the need?
Now, as many of you know, we were supposed to be going to Blackpool this weekend.  But Mum has now decided she can't leave her precious family photographs in this house.  So she's been having David working (on the communal bed) at scanning them all in over the past week or so.  She keeps producing more and more of the blasted things, and saying we can't go away unless they're all scanned, and she can take the USB drive with her.
Obviously, he's been unable to get it all done in the time, and so she has been getting more and more angry.  I desperately wanted to go shopping before the weekend away, just for simple things like deodrant and mascara.  So she calls me "selfish for taking him away from the scanning job".  So I gave in and didn't go shopping, meaning I feel even less comfortable with myself than usual.  Mum wouldn't give up moaning though, even though I'd turned down the offer to go out.  "Why the Hell do you want to go shopping anyway?  Just tell us everything you want and we can all go."  As mentioned before, I'm sure you're all laughing at me, but you saw what a misery it was even to have to go and buy underwear with her.  God only knows what way she'd find to embarrass me over terrible things like *gasp* make-up or trying to make myself smell decent.  I'm sure our extended family and her family history e-friends all over the world would have to know every detail of our trip.
David also offered to go and get a new camera.  But of course, that would be taking him away from the precious scanning too.  So what's the point of going to Blackpool photographing rides with a broken camera?  But if I say that I'm being ungrateful.  Huh, I thought I was just being sensible...  The argument continued, and then Mum yelled that she was NOT going to Blackpool anyway.  So I shall not even be getting my own bed over the next three nights, nor will I get to see if any of the old rides are still there.
The argument has just continued ever since.  It would have been "cruel" of me to go shopping in Uxbridge, because "she can't come now that her coat has been (now un-necessarily) washed for the weekend".  Um...  1) She always says she hates Uxbridge.  And 2) Aren't I allowed any privacy at all?  She keeps spitefully telling me how we won't be moving until at least March (by her choosing - absolutely NO reason we can't move in before that stupid fireplace is on the wall) now, and how grateful I should be to her for moving at all.  So...you wouldn't want to get out of an area where people are kicking each other to death on the other side of the street practically every night, if not for me?  She reminded me again how she never wanted me and wishes I hadn't been born.  Then David chimed in and reminded us how he wanted me adopted because I wasn't a boy.  Nice to feel loved, eh?  I just wish I had another family member or friend to turn to.  Someone who understands normal life.  I hate the clothes I wear on a day-to-day basis.  I don't want to have to cover my legs up right to the ankle.  I used to love my 'clamdiggers', as cropped trousers were known at the time.  "Well, I don't understand why you stopped wearing them." Mum says.  How the heck was a 15-year-old (as I was by the time I finally got trousers) supposed to continue walking around showing off her legs when she wasn't supposed to want to use any form of hair removal.  I don't know.  I need to move house so that I can start acting normal.  But it won't be for months now.
Despite everything, David still hasn't got the scanning done.  So Mum won't change her mind at the last minute and go to Blackpool, I can guarantee that.  Of course, if we had moved house, I could get on a train and go to that London Expo thing and get Brad Swaile's autograph this weekend.  I probably wouldn't pay that much to go there in reality, but it would be interesting to actually get to meet one of the original MLP Tales VA's.  But as it stands, we're not going away, and I can't get anywhere near ExCel either!  Oh well, if we had moved, Mum wouldn't be so wound up about the photos and I wouldn't have been free to go anyway.  So I guess it just wasn't meant to be.
Mind you, I'd feel so awkward meeting anyone like that.  I'm not one to act as a fangirl really, and I hate my teeth so much that I won't talk freely to anybody.  And that's another thing that's bothering me.  I've GOT to go to the next orthodontic appointment, at the start of next month, but I just don't know what to do.  I really, really don't want that surgery.  The surgeon said himself (to one of his colleagues - wouldn't say it to me, would they?!) that if they break my jaw, I'm going to look odd whatever they do, either with a "flat face" or an "elongated face".  Nice  And I bet it will mess up my voice...they know absolutely nothing about that, of course.  But if I don't go for the surgery, I will never be comfortable enough with my appearance to so much as talk to anyone without holding my head down and trying to not show my teeth.
Is there actually any point to my life?  Every single one of them would be so much happier if I wasn't here.  I myself wish I wasn't here.  All I want is a purpose to waking up each morning.  But there isn't one.  All I want to do is be able to walk out my own front door and take control of my own life.  But I can't.  I just sit here crying all day, like a great big waste of space, bringing everyone else down until they all hate me as much as I hate myself.
Winter always seems bleak, with the darkening evenings and the colder weather.  I guess I've just got to "keep on keeping on", as a certain kind person keeps telling me.  After all, there's got to be more to my life than this.  It can't get any worse, so it's got to get better in the future, hasn't it?  So I've just got to get through this storm, and hold on long enough to see the rainbow...
Thank you to all of you who have put up with my rambling throughout this blog.  If I have hurt any of you, please just let me know, so we can sort things out.  There are two people in particular I'm worried about, and I'm pretty sure you'll both read this blog.  *Hugs*  You all know you mean the world to me, and I'd hate any friendships to end this way...
Best wishes,
Desiree Skylark  xxx

No comments:

Post a Comment