Just another reason

Come Thanks Giving (2010), I was planning on going with my mother for the holiday. I guess I hadn't learned my lesson yet. Well I live in a smaller town of 2000+ and the city was 20 minutes/30 miles away. I was ready and my dad and his girlfriend were ready to leave for their own Thanks Giving. The place where they were going and the place I was going was not even 15 minutes away. (in Minnesota, we go by minutes instead of miles) My mom called and asked if I was ready. I was. Then she said it would be another 2 hours before she got to my house. Knowing my mom, it would be more like 2 and a half hours. So I asked if I could just go with my dad and have her pick me up. At first she was making it seem like it was okay. Then she went on to saying it was across town and a 40 minute drive. That the place she was going was in another city. It was not. She said what ever and if I went with my dad, she was not going to come and get me. I was getting angry at this point and decided that if I went with her, we would only get into a fight. So I went with my father. Everything was fine until she called me that night.
She called me names again. Could I think on my own? My father was a bad man. My mom was the victim. Did I have emotions? I should start doing things on my own. Get into reality. Heartless bitch. I don't care how she feels. I don't care. Do I think about other peoples feelings? My dads fault. Exactly liker your father. Cold hearted person. I don't care that my grandmother died. Do you have a heart? She was glade to see me cry at my grandmothers funeral "oh my god my daughter has a heart! She had feelings!"  Do you have a heart? Do you have a heart? Do you have a heart? "I don't think so".
She said all those things and I didn't want to listen. My dad told me to hang up, so I did. I cried so hard I was dry heaving. It hurt my head and stomach. This was all just another reason to add to the list....

Later on and still holding on

So I've lived at my fathers house house for a while at that point. It was nearing Halloween (2010) and my grandmother was sick and dying. My mother kept prying that I go and see her before she passes and I would refuse. My grandma was never a big part of my life and my mother used to always tell me the awful things she did to her. Like say she wished my mother was never born, chase her around with a knife and tell her she should die. My grandmother would tell my mom her was awful and call her bad names. I always felt sad when my mother said these things and I disliked my grandma but when ever I saw them together, they acted like regular mother and daughter. Maybe it was old age that had calmed my grandma down, but I never saw these things in her.
This was way I didn't want to see her and I had to catch up on my failing grades in school. As it was, on October 13, I was getting ready to head out with a friend of mine, Brendan. He wanted advice because of his girlfriend, my other friend, Christine. My mother called me before I was about to leave and told me that my grandma had passed on. I was not phased like I wish I should have been, and went to meet Brendan.
Another story goes on with the Brendan, Christine, and me, but that's another day....
I wasn't until the funeral that I cried. I was one of the Pallbearers and my mom looked at me with her red eyes from crying and said "I'm glade to see you have emotions" and left. I was shocked and hurt. Again.


~until another time...

The doors are open

What was the reason behind why I left my mom? It goes back to elementary school. My mother was not always there but I thought she was trying. Every year there would be these people to come in and talk about drugs and how they were bad. They were not always the same people, but the message was. So I grew up believing drugs were a bad thing. I still think that today. But i would find facial tissues with weird smelling yellow residue on them and bent paper clips. It always smelled awful. I would find pop cans bent with cuts in them and the cuts blacked out by smoke. Toilet paper rolls with tin foil at the end. And then there was the small metal tube that always smelled the worse.
I would ask myself why she would have this. It smells so bad. Then one day it hit me. My mother was smoking pot. I wanted to help her stop knowing that it was bad. I should know, I leaded about it in elementary school remember? Yeah right. I was in seventh grade at this point and i was in some kind of special ed. I told my special ed teacher about this and I asked that she not confront my mom about this.
Come parent teacher conferences, she did.
My mother told me and my brother to go wait in the car. When she came back, she had tears in her eyes and she looked angry. I and my brother asked what was wrong and she said nothing. When we got home she asked that I stay in the car.
"Why would you do this to me?" she asked me. I didn't know what she meant. Further into the conversation she was throwing words at me like "back stabbing bitch" and "heartless", also "emotionless" was in there for some reason. She said that it was a family matter and that it should be handled by family. I thought not.
She sent me to a counselling. His name was Dan, that's all I can remember from him. She didn't even tell me that she had made planes to take me there. She asked if I wanted to go Rochester and I said "not really". She took me anyways.
She told the counselor that  I had been brainwashed by my father, who was actually being more sportive then my mother at the time. She said that I was cutting myself and that I wanted to kill her. Bravo mother. It was true that was cutting myself to relive the tension building inside of me. I have quite and not a single blade has touched my wrist or any other part of my body. Take a look at some of my scares some time, they were never deep, just enough to get the blood flowing.
As for killing my mother, that was not entirely true. Mind you I was thirteen at the time and quick to anger. I had a journal that I would write in everyday. My mother found this and was reading. She said it was the only way to keep track of me. I found this out and was putting things in there to make her stop reading. I would try  and move my hiding place, but she would only find it again.
When ever i got angry or frustrated, I would draw. Just draw. And I would put these upset drawings in my journal  Like of my running over a mean kid at school, or setting fire to my homework. It would only draw it, but never even think of doing it myself. Well, me being the upset and not thinking thirteen year old that I was, I drew a picture of me shooting my mother. That was a mistake, but that was how I reveled my anger at the time.
My mother took that and showed it to the counselor. Minis the picture of drugs I drew into her hand. She erased that part. Who knows what it would do to her image!
From then on, the relationship with my mother kept getting worse until I could no longer take it. I packed my stuff up and moved in with my dad.
There were more rules there and it was more strict, but I was happy.

That's all I can really say about that matter...

About that name...

So you noticed that my name is different. Well it's a Japanese name used in a manga that I like to read. It's called Loveless. It's a yaoi (man on man loving), not hardcore stuff though, just a few kissing here and there. But there is blood and swearing.
I use Ritsuka for most any website that I go to, like gaiaonline.com. My name there is ritsuka_kitty_cat, look me up if you have a gaia account as well.
Well, I suppose that's all you really need to know about my name. It's not my real name, but still.

In the beginning there was the one...

So I decided that that I wanted to tell people about my life. Not that it's interesting in the least, but there is some juicy drama going on. Ever sense I was born, there was drama. It fallows me and I hate it. I really do.
I was in my mom's tummy waiting for my arrival. I guess I got impatient, because my mom got a hemorrhage. 50/50 chance of being born. Well, I made it, seventeen years later here I am. But I guess my birth wasn't as dramatic as some peoples, like my brother who was in a car crash while he was in mom's tummy. But I suppose that's its not like it's a competition.

I live in a divorced home. At the moment, I live with my father, but I used to live with my mom for about 15 or 16 years. The something happened that I cant forgiver her for. I will go into detail later. But after that, I was getting further away from my mother and closer to my father, then one day when I couldn't take it any more. I    called my father up and told him that i could no longer stay at my mothers.  so he came and took me to his house and I took all my things to his house. Now look where I am!

well, until another time I suppose...