Serious Venting.

So today, on the way to class to get ready to hopeully not fail an algebra test, I forgot my calculator.  I got snapped at by my stepmom about forgetting things.

What I wanted to say was:  "Well, if you wouldn't constantly take my stuff and stuff it into the nearest closet without saying anything to me then I wouldn't have this thrice-damned problem!"  I said nothing, however, though I veritably seethed back there in the bucket seat of the van.  She insists on accompanying me on the five minute ride to the bus stop, as if I would plot something in her absence.

It reminded me of why I still have a bag packed in the back of said closet.  I don't know if we're bailing, but it doesn't seem like my keys will be sent any time soon.

It's hard, living in a place where all of your space is limited to roughly one third of a closet.  I'm afraid I'll lose writing in that place.  But, I'll have to live with it until I can get something else.  I'm just tired of the bull, and I'm ready for something else.

I'm seriously in the wrong line of work…Gotta look into going into journalism.