is like staring into the sun; I can only stand it for a little while before I'm forced to do something else. I hate it here
. As much as I could complain about this pointless yuppie
town or my idiotic school or my mind-numbing
job, I can always narrow down the worst problems to the simple fact that I go home into a firestorm
. They followed me into the garage just so they could get the last word.
If this is the best parenting that they can manage, something must be dearly wrong. My mother is just scared of his voice when it's stressed and timidly backs up whatever my father says. It's weak. Meanwhile, he's kicking things across the room at my brother. Am I supposed to stand still through this?
Every moment I spend going to school or working or just driving around in circles to avoid the house -- it's a testament to how shitty this stupid place is.