I Should Be Used to All This

Me: Hey, Grandma (Dad's mum) sent a postcard to Dad from Canada. I wonder why it didn't arrive with ours?
Mum: I didn't get one.
Me: ...mm.
Mum: Fucking rude bitch.
Me: Excuse me? She isn't your mother.
Mum: That's hardly the point.

Oh for God's sake, woman. Your husband's mother sent him a postcard. Get over it. Your jealousy knows no bounds.

You know, I can understand her being upset. But, really, I don't want to hear her swearing about other family members. Being family, I feel like I need to defend them. But then I'd be defending them from another family member, which makes me feel like I'm taking sides. I don't want to do that.

Still cleaning my room. I have newfound inspiration to throw everything out, now. When I can afford to move out, I won't need to worry about packing, because I'll have very little. That's the plan. Brb shoving all the junk in my cupboard into a garbage bag.

I really think the main thing that keeps me going is the fact that one day, I can move out. I know she'll sob and ask me to stay. I know she'll pretend that the last few years were of no consequence. That's fine. I'll still leave.
The thing that keeps me going is that, one day, I'll be able to turn to her and say fuck you. I'm not putting up with your bullshit anymore and leave.

Pffft I can hear her talking to Dad about me now. This should annoy me but I'm bitching about her too so whatever.
I think Dad's defending me. ♥

...I shouldn't blog when in a bad mood. It just turns out whiny and emo-sounding. My day wasn't that bad. I have a terrible headache and my motivation for school still hasn't returned, but... well, it didn't completely suck.

On another note, some guy was hitting on me at the shops today. I was waiting for Mum and he came and sat next to me. I could've moved away, but I didn't want to be rude, and he was a big, scary guy and I kinda wanted to stay as still as possible and hope he didn't notice me (oh, fear, how little sense you make). So I didn't move. He decided to talk to me.
All I learnt about him was that he plays football and is currently here on a visa. The rest of the conversation was, unfortunately, centred on me. He asked me a bunch of questions (we didn't have a proper conversation. I was a little too terrified to say much) like "what are you studying", " have you ever traveled" and "do you have a boyfriend".

Me: No.
Him: Why not?
Me: Ah... I don't know. They don't like me? Heh, nah, I dunno, I guess it's not really a good time to focus on relationships anyway.
Him: Yeah, I guess. I bet you're too good for them anyway. Hey, do you have facebook? Can I add you?

...er.

I mean, I feel flattered. He spoke to me for a whole hour about... well, everything. For no reason. It was... odd, but nice. I still feel kinda creeped out that this guy just started talking to me though.

The end of the conversation was kinda fun.

Him: You're quiet.
Me: Hm? Ah, sorry.
Him: Are you scared of me?
Me: ...uh? I, um, not... not really. It's just... I don't talk to strangers often. I don't know what to say.
Him: You can say anything to me. I do understand though.
Me: Hm. It's kinda awkward.
Him: Yeah. A little.

This is why I'll never be able to pick up guys. Never.