I don’t get on with my family, I’m not fond of them in all honestly but I don’t see why such a fuss is made by outsiders because of that.  I’m very secretive and undisclosive towards them but with friends and perhaps the odd stranger, I’m a lot more open with them, a lot more.  It took until spring 2011 for my mum to realise I wasn’t a vegetarian, although the thick bitch knew I wasn’t one when she saw me eat a pepperoni pizza with my mates in 2007.  My dad thinks I’m one still and he saw me eat that pizza but for the time being, it’s a safe bet to stay one because I don’t trust the gas cooker in this house.  It’s about 80 years old and it might blow up in my face, so eating frozen veggie stuff is a hell of a lot safer than frozen chicken.

Difference with friends and relatives is that I choose to like my friends whereas I have to love my relatives, otherwise it’s a sign of a broken family.  Also, friends come and go but your family will always be there for you until they ride the big escalator to the sky, then again, you’ll always have a better time with friends than with family.  I never felt lonely with my family about because I chose to be alone, kooked up in my room away from them.  When I’m in an empty house for a long time, I feel lonely because there was no one to be alone from.  I only realised that was the case when my mum kicked me out, when she pissed off to Derbyshire, and I was forced to move to my grandad’s old house with my sister (I think she feels the same as me, she’s always in her room.  Ironic we feel like that and disregard each other).

I won’t be of much cop at that, unless someone wants to adopt me.

Now, my dad’s moved in with us for some bizarre reason, disowning his girlfriend of 13 or so years.  I don’t really see why he’s here apart from to buy me either chips, rice and curry or a vegetable pizza every night.  All he ever does is sit at his laptop playing shitty Flash games that peck my head in; get drunk, obnoxious and patronising and go in the shed to smoke weed, pretending I don’t know about it.  One of the reasons I’m not fond of my parents is that they treat me like I’m fucking 12, he’s probably here because he doesn’t trust me and thinks I’m gonna blow the house up.  Let me tell you now, I’m not the one who’s gonna blow up the place, it’s that ancient gas cooker.

In my dad’s defence, he prolly treats me like a little kid because he got kicked out of the house in late 1998, and I lived with him in 1999-2000, so his only experience is with little kids.  As for my mum… she’s always had a little kid to look after?  When I was 7 (sister: 6) she had a baby and when he was 7, she had another one.  Is that a valid reason or am I making shit up?

Once I move away for good, that’ll be the last they see of me.  Toodles!