So the inhumanly busy day that I went to bed early for has so far turned out to be one of the most empty ones I've lived in months. I awoke at 7, grabbing an orange while rushing out to the SAT. After sending me to 5, I kid you not, 5 different buildings, they kindly informed me that I did not have my registration packet and therefore could not take the test. The woman that I talked to last night on the help 1-800 line must have been an evil impersonator who was trying to deceive me, because only one of the eight things she told me was true. Surely, it wasn’t whoever I was currently talking to at that time who was at fault; everyone was wrong except for whoever was “assisting” me at the moment. I felt completely vexed at the incompetence that sprung forward to meet me at every turn, so I stomped home after informing the tester that his campus was of the devil.

I wasn’t too frustrated, however; I had work at 11:30 and was going to have to seriously push my physical capacity to get to work on time. I figured this was for the best and that I could take the test next month. I clean my room, go to work, and then spend 45 minutes waiting for busses and trains to take me back home upon realizing that I’m not working today.

Technically I’ve spent a lot of time frantically doing nothing today. What a frustrating feeling. Argh.
Anyway. Elisse was arrested yesterday for being assaulted by her 60 year old step-grandmother. Huh.

Apparently Sue, her grandfather’s wife, attacked her and then pretended as if Elisse had attacked her. Yeah, I know: kind of hard to see. So Elisse spent the morning in juvenile detention and emerged an incredibly depressed person. I was going to go with her to a friend’s house, but it was raining and I would have to tell an incredible amount of lies to do so, so I decided against it. Elisse became quiet and withdrawn, as if she was so used to me abusing her. I’ve always marveled at Elisse’s amazing ability to victimize herself, especially in our relationship. She viewed me as this pitiless addiction; her drug of choice. She would whine and whine and whine and make up these nonsense problems and dilemmas, then cry and scream out in self pity when I refused to waste my time trying to resolve them. She would complain to her friends about how hard it was to be mistreated by me and then become puzzled when they all hated me. Even when my mother decided I couldn’t talk to her anymore, she became mad at me because I wouldn’t “fight” for her. How could I do this to her? Yes, my family was falling apart, my mother didn’t trust me, I was handled like a disease at home, and Elisse cries and yells because she doesn’t like how I’m handling things. What does she want? Does she want everyone to stop and drop everything to play into her ideals every time she demands them to? She expected the same things from Hunter. Does she expect me to lie to my family and kill myself trying to hold on to the little rights I have left just so I can comfort her when her picture perfect net of manipulation and deceit finally starts to rip? I don’t adore her as everyone else does. I won’t let her walk all over me just like her minions do. How does such behavior classify as abuse? The only way I could get away from the false entity she saw me as and forced everyone else to see me as was to plant that letter and walk away as the ungrateful child. I’m glad this event has finally slapped her in the face with the callous hand of reality. I’ll never forgive her for some things that happened last year. She says that she has matured and grown, I hope she doesn’t think that growth comes without price. I hope she doesn’t think that I’ve forgotten about the tremendous impact her fallacious visions had on my life.

Yesterday, after I decided not to go with her, she acted so hurt and crippled. When I caught her walking, I came up to her. She wouldn’t talk. She said she was tired “of nobody being there when she called”. She ignored the fact that I was walking in the rain with her when I had a ride. She ignored the fact that I hate talking to her when she’s submerged in her blinding self pity, yet I was doing it anyway. That’s not what she wanted, so it doesn’t count.

Fuck. I’ve felt this for the longest time. I’ve felt so sickened and disgusted by this, so utterly mad, so consumed by this anger. I haven’t endeavored to surface this because she’ll twist it into whatever shadows her flaws and illuminates mine. I haven’t tried to talk about this because it’s over, and I’m sick of these warped feelings and synthetic emotions. I am so glad this is over, so glad. The most melodious emancipation was the first step I took away from her. She doesn’t even realize this.

She doesn’t even care.