and no bird sang

*sigh*
my father sometimes....
he's the only thing in my life that triggers my suicidal thoughts.
i guess i'm just so fragile still.
but being yelled at a lot is hard on me. especially when the reasons are stupid or something like that.
he got mad because he thinks i lied about eating a cupcake i didn't eat. i mean...seriously? even if i had eaten it, i don't see the what the bid deal was, considering he shouldn't be eating them anyway since he's supposedly on a diet, or so he says, but he keeps eating things he's not supposed to.
i really shouldn't be eating them either, but i brought one home from church anyway.
so he found the wrapper to the one i had brought home in my trash because yes, he tends to go looking through my trash, which creeps me out and pisses me off in a way. so automatically he assumed i must have eaten on of his cupcakes because oh, that MUST be the ONLY explanation.
then he proceeded to be mad because my room isn't clean. and he wanted to vacuum.
and he was going in my room and moving stuff around and taking things and all this shit, and that's when i notice and think..wtf??
i'm very particular about people going through my stuff whenever they feel like it. it sets me off. it feels like a total invasion of privacy, and while i don't have anything i'm afraid he;ll find, it still bothers me so very much.
but it was him yelling at me, over and over.
he told me he was doing it so he could vacuum my room. and he got mad, yeah, but he didn't even think to do the more sensible thing and ask me first to pick things up myself. he never asks me about anything like that. he just marches in and does what ever he feels like.
he's such a control freak.
i can't even have my room how i want it, and i'm 20 years old. i can't have privacy. nothing.
he actually goes through the stuff of the other guy living here, too. and does the same thing. takes stuff.
whenever i start to say something back to him, trying to defend myself and fight back because i shouldn't have to take that crap anymore, he just says, "i'm not arguing with you."
really? oh. my. god.
every single time, he says that. every time. when he's the instigator and quite frankly i feel that i should be allowed to have my say.
but no.
because people are going to keep putting me down and i'm just not allowed to defend myself. ever. i'm supposed to be this little thing that just deals and does what she's told and gets hurt for it anyway. even for being good.

i'm so sick and tired of life being that way.
why me?
because i care too much that i don't really put up much of a fight.
because i'm so fragile. so fragile. it's easy.

when people yell at me, in that angry sort of way, i always crack. after everything i've been through i'm always half afraid my father will hit me, even though he never has, just because he has that same kind of voice as others have who have hit me before.
i'm still so fragile and i can't help it. and it breaks me down. i break under the stress of trying to handle getting yelled at like that.

i wanted to just run away this morning.
i've been taught that if there is something/someone in my life that is a trigger for my suicidal thoughts, that i should try to get away from whatever it is.
but of course, i am pretty much stuck here.
my only other option is a homeless shelter.
which this morning i was thinking about except for one thing: school.
i need to go to school and get on with my life.
and if i leave, that won't happen.
miserable situations.

i went out on a walk while i cried, and when i came back, my father acted as if nothing had happened.
but me, my day is pretty much ruined.
my spirit will remain low.
that's the way things work with me.

fragile.
i'm too fragile.
always.
that hasn't changed, even though so much about me has.

i guess i'll have to keep dealing with him though.
but i like him less and less as time goes on.
he's such a fake. and a liar. and i tend to despise people like that.

i'm thankful i have friends and family who aren't that way. i'm thankful i'm not that way.

all my love,
Heather