Bullshit

So I am finally home.  And my brother does not understand the meaning of "I don't feel like putting up with bullshit at the moment."  AKA "Please leave me the fuck alone."  (I apologize for cussing so much. It's even in the title.)



I can hear my mom and my brother screaming at each other through the open door that my brother forgot to shut on his way out of my room.  I want to go outside to get some tea, but... Oh, my brother just slammed his bedroom's door.  Good riddance.

     I'll admit, I'm not the most honest person, not even to myself.  I like to hide things.  I tell half-truths.  But even so... I'm a hypocrite.  Not being told the truth pisses me off just the same.  Just typing this kind of hurts... I try my best to not be seen to others as a hypocrite, even if I say I am.  I hide my mouth cuz I know that I can't say a thing cuz I'm not any better than anyone else.
     Even so, it hurts to not be told everything.  I get upset.  Mom called last night, saying that if I want to go home, call Dad.  So I did.  And then Dad came... and revealed that he's really sick with a stomachache due to stress.  And that he was home all week.
      Why wasn't I told this?  I stayed at my grandparent's assuming that Mom and Dad were both working all week.  Nobody told me what was going on.  Mom called a few times during the week.  She never said a word about it.
     I'm really upset.  And I shouldn't be upset.  I really shouldn't.  But I am anyways.  How pathetic.  At the very least, I should've expected this.  It's not a rare thing.  I hardly ever know what's going on, and scarcely am I ever told the whole truth.  Ah, whatever, right?

To make it worse, I tried showing Mommy and Daddy the pictures I drew.  Daddy didn't really care, and Mommy tried to touch it.

Anyways, I think everyone's playing League right now, so I'll just... find something to do lol.

EDIT:: Nevermind about getting something to eat or drink.  The milk that had expired a week or something before I left for grandpa's is still there.  Except now it would be a month old, I suppose.  March 13th.  Good flipping lord.  My brother made me carry the flan in, and he didn't even bother to put it in the refrigerator.  Mom heard me putting it in, asked if I'm hungry.  I told her no, I'm just thirsty.  Dad then tries to give me bread.  #Logic.  I think, if I wasn't thirsty, I'd be okay with him offering me bread.  At this point, though, I'm just complaining because it makes me feel better.  I also apologize to the only reader of this trashbag that I know of.