Random Shit And Updates

Update/Rant

Hi again. Sorry about throwing a fit. I'm not replying to comments anymore. Also, can someone tell people to stop commenting on the last chapter of the LTLA book? Thanks. I don't give a shit about it enough to do it. I just don't wanna see it. Don't wanna delete people's kind words either. Everything's fine. I'm fine. I'm officially Hamilton trash. Yet another fandom to add to the collection. Probably gonna find a way to do good in it then fuck that up. By the way, AO3 is a fucking amazing platform for fanfics. The search engine is awesome. And the creators seem to know what to provide and what to leave to the authors/readers. It's really cool, even though it's a beta site.

We got another dog a while ago, thought it was worth mentioning. One of my cats ran away and the other is at whatever the equivalent of the ASPCA is in Kentucky because he has cancer.

I've been on. I've just been a stubborn brat. My Mom is moving out of my Grandparents with her boyfriend, and my brother finally gets his own room. My Mom finally found a job she can do with her Crohn's disease, and it pays well, so now we can do stuff.

I'm finally getting to do stuff over the summer. I went to the lake a few times and a pool once. I've had quite a few panic attacks over the summer, much more than I've had in my life, which isn't surprising honestly, since at the time it was maybe four. They get worse every time.

I skipped my counseling appointment. She's made it obvious she doesn't actually care. She tries to mask it with sugar coating words and a condescending tone, but she's just bad at it.

It hasn't helped at all. I can't fit into the kids category because of my intellectual level and I can't fit into the teenagers because it doesn't work the same. I can't be helped with a mind as fucked up and mature as this while my body is still that of an eleven year old.

Maybe it's just her though. Maybe if I find the right person I can get fixed. I don't have the heart to tell my Mom that the lady that helped her through some terrible shit is fucking bad at her job.

I've come close to cutting. I do it in a way that doesn't leave scarring. I don't break skin, because it takes too long to heal. I just get whatever object looks most painful and inflict pain in the most effective way possible. It wasn't even out of desire. It was out of spite to my grandpa. I'm not gonna get into what he did, just note that he's not a good fucking person.

I've had more suicidal thoughts lately. I'd never do it. I have too much left to do. In the words of Alexander Hamilton, "I am not throwing away my shot." I've had them before. I told the councilor otherwise, because it doesn't make a difference. If I wouldn't do anything, what's the point of speaking up?

I know I said we wouldn't be talking about my Grandpa, but fuck it. He manipulated my Mom for the longest time. He still tries to. He manipulates everyone. He's part (40+%) of the reason I'm this fucked up, and he has the audacity to try and purposefully make me pity him. He goes on and on about how much he probably has cancer, and to pray for him.

He purposefully fakes sickness after I speak my true mind the night before about everything he's done. He makes it so I'd feel bad if I'd gone to that fucking appointment because of, "how bad he hurts." Threatens going and talking to the councilor without me about my tendency to stay in my room when he fucking knows it's because I have the mind of a teenager and because of my depression, a major part of which is caused by him.

I have a hell of a lot more to say, but none of its positive, so I hope you have a good day. I'm sorry if I dampened it in any way, and I'm sorry if I ignore your comments. Love ya. - Destiney Wishes She Could Learn More