So my mom gets to have me from the moment I get off the bus on tuesdays to 8pm on Tuesday because her lawyer and her are absolute b!tches and pieces of sh!t. This is week two of whatever the hell it is. I’ve never liked my mother because of the harm she inflicted upon me and my brother years ago. She still does it now, but I live with my dad. She has literally stolen my brother and is holding him hostage. Her existence is enough to set me off. I was with her for an hour so far and she gave me a headache.

She always lets me choose where to eat, which is the first good thing that b!tch has done in her life. I wish I were exaggerating. Well, today I told her I wanted to go to Chick Fil A, but she literally said “No, we’re going to the country club. I don’t care. You never eat anyways. You’re already f@t. You don’t need fast food.” The one problem? She isn’t allowed to touch our family’s account to the country club, meaning she has to pay for it herself. She works minimum wage and has her fiancé’s card because she’s never earned money on her own. She hates paying for stuff. When I told her she wouldn’t be able to use the account before we got here, she told me “I’m the parent, you’re the child.” and then some nasty stuff, including slurs. Anyone who’s known me long enough knows that I matured much too early and I’m much more of a parent than she’ll ever be, especially to my younger brother. Strangers have seen me with my dad and brother and thought I was my brother’s mother.

Also, at this country club, everyone knows my family. We don’t work there, we’ve just helped them out and volunteered a whole lot. They know my dad and i’s opinions about my mother. They know she was cut off from the family and the account and that she stole my brother. I hope that they tell her at the end of the meal Right now, though, I’m in the bathroom. I’m not planning on coming out. Indon’ eat food with her because, last time I did, she added food poisoning or something or other. Long story short, I got sick as hell. I haven’t eaten a meal with her since. If I leave a table she’s at and return, I don’t finish eating the food. She csn’t be trusted.

I hear her coming so I’m moving to the other restroom. Afk.

I plan on telling the school’s therapist that I need to talk to her tomorrow, but otherwise I can’t do anything. I don’t trust my teachers that well because I haven’t known them that long, and my dad can’t help me because he’s on the other side of the country. I’m trying, though. It’s not like two years ago when she nearly broke my arm and I didn’t call for help.

I’ll try that.