I need to vent.
I wished for a regular schedule, a routine when I was in school. I always felt tired, irregular. Happens when you sleep at all hours of the night, and wake up anywhere from 8am to 2pm.
But now? I mean, is this it? Bed at 9, up at 6, everyday? I don't even see sunlight anymore. I'm not going out, meeting people. I'm turning into a hermit, an anti-social no-lifer. Help!
My mother won't be back until early February. If you've been reading my pieces for a while, you'll know my relationship with my father. Like the English and French, we often, and regularly, have our skirmishes. Like now.
You know, it's not a sign of disrespect if I refuse to eat the breakfast he got. It's a sign of disgust that he'd try to make me eat this dog food. I know the man has no palate, but this is going too far. F*cking curried minced pork pastries? So he can go sulk all he wants. I'm f*cking done trying. For my mother's sake, I've tried to keep the peace. Not working. You know what his idea of an intellectual conversation is? Last night, I was commenting on the vinho verde we were drinking. His contribution was to tell me to stop holding the wine in my mouth for so long because it'd do hell to my gums.
I'm f*cking done with this shit.