My mom died. What!!!!???? Without warning…not real warning, like I expected it warning, but gentle, you need to be tuned in warning. I know all the signs, I saw them all, but we had been going through this all fucking year! There was no way in hell that this was it. I got on the ride and I jumped back off because I felt like I was getting all worked up again for nothing, only to find myself back here again in another month to six weeks to go through it again. Then she fucking did it.

Good for her!!!!! She fucking deserved it….she deserved the release, she deserves the glory and the bliss. She fucking deserved better than everything she ever fucking got!!!! I just can’t believe it.

She was at my house a week prior and didn’t look bad. She was in a good mood, seemed to be enjoying herself.

Anyways, my original point when I stared this was, how the fuck do you raise a girl? It’s the biggest job – EVER!!!!! How do you raise a girl when you’re broken and hard? How do you raise a girl when you were raised by someone who was broken? How do you teach them that they are exactly perfect, exactly the way they are, no matter what…no exceptions? Every moment, no matter how fucked up it may be, only lasts a moment. It’s perfect, it’s not forever, just for this second. You might change your mind in a minute or you might not and that’s ok.

I’ve been called bitch for most of my life and quite honestly, I’m quite fucking sick of it. Everyone who’s ever called me a bitch can fuck right off! If you think I’m a bitch, that’s your fucking problem. I own every one of my feelings. I take responsibility for my words, my actions and every fucking other thing. I didn’t have any choice. There was no one standing in front of me to help me or defend me. So I own it. All of it. But just because I will say shit that you think, but are too much of a pussy to say, does not make me a bad person or a bitch. You calling me a bitch makes you judgemental.

I’m so fucking tired of feeling the need to apologize for every god damned thing I think or say. Why am I responsible for your shit? Tell me. I don’t fucking make you responsible for mine. Why do I always have to humour you and pat your ego because I am too much for you? I’m not a monster. I’m not larger than life. Why do you react negatively to what you see. Why can’t you just own that part of yourself?

Does it really make you feel better to judge me for saying something that you think? Or do you really feel like a fraud? I’ve been around people like me….who say shit that you would really never say in public and you know what….it’s fucking hilarious….you know why… because everyone thinks it, but no one would ever fucking dare say it. I love that I’ve been around people comfortable enough with me to be themselves and say that shit. What the fuck do I care?! You had an opinion or thought shared by like 90% of the adult population…oh well. Good on ya! Why am I the asshole?