With me, the only problem I have in High-school would probably be the preps. Me, being a chick, dressing all gothy and seeing cheerleaders walking by snickering..I think I might punch one. Im going to BBCHS, Bradley-Burbonnais Community High School. Yay. Im trilled.
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You see, I was home-schooled for three years from my mother. I was takin' ouuta a private school (St. John's Lutheran) in 5th grade. I lost a lot of friends that way. Luckily, by living with my father, I keep in touch with them.
Wait, I was living my mother, and now my father? Why you ask?
Every since I was really little, my father meant the world to me. You know, the "Daddy's little girl forever" thing. I could tell him anything and he would get mad. One time I smoked a ciggeratte (I suggest you don't that stuff is a waste of money for one thing and they taste really baaaaaaaaad) And he told me just don't do it again, and that was the end of it. I NEVER told my mom.
Now, the true reason I live with my father is because my mother really hurt me. My sister, died when she was a newborn. It was a lung dieases I had never heard of. My mom would use that excuse. "I have one dead daughter, and your dead to me too." Ouch.
My mother physically and mentaly abused me. It's probably why Im a tough cookie now. :)
When I was little, she'd hit me, smack me, and beat the living crap out of me. As I got older, and I soon got taller than she was, she stopped beating, and started with her words. Now, I'd rather get beat unconcious then have your own mother call you really bad names. Now, I am not over-wieght. I am 134 and im 5'13....That is not bad at all. My mother blamed me for food missing when our dog ate it.
She did call me alot of names. Soon I started getting mad. I'd tell her to leave me alone, stop it, and even shut-up. She took me to a doctor and told him, "Emily," (thats my name.) "Is threatning to kill herself, and calls her own self names. Is there a med we can put her on?" And just like that, they put me on a form of prozac. You do know what prozac is? Well if you don't, its a drug, of course, but a drug that makes you go even more loopy if that makes sense. What this drug did, if my mother started with her mouth again, it would calm me down. I wouldn't care what was happening around me.
This drug also wouldn't allow me to drive, which was crap beyond crap! So I talked to my dad about. He didn't do anything so I had to bear with it. But, he did keep on saying, "It's your mom that get you agrey." which was true.
My parents were divorced, I saw my father every-othe rweekend, which means I saw him twice a month. Everytime I would see him, I would forget my meds and I would be happy as a clam. (If clams can be happy, I dont think they show facial expressian) Then I would go back to my mom and I'd want to brake something. So, i'd take the medacation asap.
So one happy day, she told me to move out. And I packed my bags and left. So, I moved in with my father.
Now today, as I am writing this, I hope she reads this. Because she taught me a wonderful thing....
To love my own children some day, so much.....