tis the season. i don't know what for, though
sorry this won't be a fun-filled fa la la entry.
i got home at about 7pm on thursday. within a 1/2 hour, my father nearly went off on me, because he thought the lipbalm i was holding was a cigarette: "i was going to say...what the hell are you thinking?"
he doesn't know i smoke, as far as i know. when mom called me on it at thanksgiving (smart me, for not febreezing my laundry before bringing it with me), i made her promise not to tell dad, because i know that he'd react worse to that than if he knew i was drinking again.
of course, we all know from this past summer how reliable my mom's word is, so who knows, really.
i, of course, have already gotten the not-so-stealthy you should move back to jersey commentary. she has even gone so far as to do apartment searches for me online.
(side note: i looked in the paper this morning -- there's no way i can move back here unless i have a roommate -- even PATTERSON is too expensive for me)
mom has also mentioned that i could, probably, use my sister and bro-in-law's condo down the shore as a home for a few months if i needed to.
*sigh*
also, our christmas traditions are being infiltrated this year. my bro-in-law's stepmom and stepsister (and her 2 ADDed-out freakchildren - shut up, i have ADD, so i can call it like i see it) are joining us for dinner. which means sharing time with my nephew. which means our gift giving tradition will either be: fragmented between morning and afternoon - morning just being between mom and dad and i (joy to the world...), OR the whole process will be rushed and crammed into the hour before stepmom-in-law, stepsister-in-law and her spawn show up.
oh, and i saw my mom's browsing history on her AOL -- guess who's been doing google searches under "neon7" (part of my old d-land name) and "harmonicflake" (my AIM screenname). so she may very well have come across this diary (again). joy to the mutha fuckin' world.
i've spent most of my time here sleeping or hiding. hell, i even went to the willowbrook mall earlier -- on christmas EVE -- to escape. i went to sephora, bought NOTHING (WTF?), got a craptastic excuse for a soy latte from the starbucks in macy's, and gave up the fight about an hour later.
i think i'm fighting a stomach virus. i went to bed at 9pm, and have been up every hour since, fighting the overwhelming feeling to puke that is lying in my stomach and travelling up my throat.
at this point, i would like to grab my new winter jacket and my new printer (both presents i know that i'm getting...because i picked them out), and go home.
i feel alone and smothered all at once. i pretended to be asleep on the couch this afternoon, trying not to cry.
well, it's almost 2am now. i'm alone, so it's okay for me to cry.
this is, quite possibly, the worst christmas i've ever had. and it hasn't even "officially" started. i want to cancel it. i want to go home, and sleep and smoke my marlboro ultra-lights and listen to jimmy eat world and my chemical romance (i screamed the lyrics to "i'm not okay" while driving on Route 23. that felt really good).
i want to drink a jug of gallo red. my nails are a mess; my cuticles are raw and red from being picked at and chewed on. i'm full of anxiety, dread, and a sharp pain in my abdomen. but i'll have to put on the gracious hostess/dutiful daughter smiley face. while inside, i want do something resembling a cross between sleeping, dying, and pushing someone's fucking lights out.
i suppose i should end this on a somewhat positive note. merry christmas, happy (late) hannukah, happy kwanzaa, happy solstice...
i'll be waiting to read everyone's joyful yuletide stories. and i will be genuinely happy, because you all deserve them. i do believe that with every fiber of my being. (but i will be insanely jealous)
clearly, not all christmas wishes come true. at least not mine.
posted by: less-than3
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