Pretty Like Drugs

Oh no, I've said too much.

Anger? Yes, please.

I’m pretty angry at my father at the moment. I will explain why.

I messed my back up today at work. It’s an old injury, but my lumbar area spasms and I have sciatic (sp?) issues. After I did my pull my back was seriously wonky and Katie (sbux) was kind enough to say I could go home at 6. I texted my dad and he said he’d be there at 6:15. This texting took place at 5pm.

I clock out at 6:10. I wait.. I wait.. I wait. I text him again. Nothing. 6:30 rolls around and I’m angry because I should’ve just stayed clocked in. Katie wasn’t feeling well either.

So I try calling, texting, calling.. 6:45..7pm.. Nothing. The minutes are slowly ticking by, and I’ve been clocked out since 6:10.

Johnny shows up around 6:45, on his lunch break from BestBuy, and I hang out with him. I get a text at 7:15, “I’m here.”

So I go outside, and yeah, he’s here. He has no real way to explain himself except, “I lost track of time. Sorry.” and I was like “Yeah, well my back is fucked up and I’ve been sitting here since 6:10 wondering where the fuck you were.”

My dad is also inebriated and possibly high. And I’m not talking high on pot.

To put things lightly, it’s moments like this, that happen waaaay too often, when I realize that I would really like to not live with my Father. That I would really like to have my licence (aug 24th wont be here soon enough.) That know better than to rely on ANYONE other than myself, and yet somehow I do. I feel like a fucking idiot.

Oh yeah, fuck you dad. Fuck you lower back. Thank you Katie (for being awesome.) and Fuck work.

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