Watch Me Fall

Eleven...

Walking on eggshells again, I just want out. Everything he does, everything he says, even when he's being friendly, or even loving, it makes me uncomfortable and I want out of here. I feel really just scared. I don't know. Like at the end of the day dad knows I'm leaving. But it's not like I'm abandoning him, I would never do that. I love him. I mean, I think I do. I don't know how I feel anymore, because even when he tries his best, the emotional sunburn fucks me up. I don't want to talk about politics, I don't want to watch YouTube with him. I just don't want to hang out with him. Like no he hasn't really done anything lately, but still, the anxiety of knowing I'm gonna just straight up and leave, only leaving a note and most of my shit, it's eating at me. If it weren't for the fact he'd guilt trip me and do everything he could to make me stay, I'd tell him the truth. But he wouldn't take the truth kindly, would he? He never has, and never will. Most of my life here, he hasn't believed me, even when I told the truth. Just because the truth was twisted in his mind doesn't mean I was lying. Just because things didn't make sense to him, doesn't mean I lied, either. Like now he's up my ass about getting lip rings.

Who gives a shit? I don't really see the big deal. I liked one of them. Besides, I bought the pack of jewelry, for the one's with the gems. Not for the lip rings. I figured they'd be a bonus, you know? Just for fun. He acts like I have never worn a lip ring before, and was saying he didn't like them and how I wouldn't. Like no, lip rings are fine. I kind of like them, but not for the reasons he thinks. I just like how they look on me. Is that so wrong? Why is it up to him, anyways?

I mean, with everything. He shouldn't have a say in what jewelry I wear, period. If I'm not hurting anyone, who cares? Like chokers. I think they look cute, and always enjoyed wearing them. But because one of his stupid ass friends said it means whore, then he has been on my case about it for like 5 years now. Like fuck off and let me do my own thing. Maybe my style is still "emo"-ish. So what? It's my kind of style, I like it. I like what I like. Unlike Dad, I can separate the artist from the art, though yeah in cases where there are Satanists involved I back away. He even got on my case about hoodies, and even converse. Like so what, I like them. They make me comfy. My bad for liking them.  I wish he'd let me do whatever I wanted with my look. Like if I wanna cut my hair, let me, especially since I have been wanting to for years now. He didn't realize, but he forced me to grow out my hair. That's stupid. Why couldn't I get a haircut? Oh, because dad didn't like the idea of it. I hate when I want to do something and he's instantly like telling me okay, but has this attitude that says otherwise, because it makes him uncomfortable. Like how many times he said yes to me dying my hair, then changed his mind like a dick. 

I can't wait to get my haircut. Will I look like a trans emo boy? Probably. Do I give a flying fuck? Nope. Plus, I'm getting my medusa pierced, and two eyebrow piercings. I also might get my nips still, I don't know. Why not, right? Then all my tattoos and shit will be cool. Then on top of that, Sav is really good with make-up, so I can ask her to do mine. Then she can also help me figure out how the fuck people make these things called "outfits" work, haha.