F***

This morning my mum told me she wanted to talk to me. I figured she'd found out I'd skived Chem last week but no. Someone decieded to tell my mum on Friday how unhappy I have been.

They, I assume, thought it would make things better if my parents where aware of how I've been feeling. I thank them for their concern, and understand they meant well. But it's actually made the situation feel a hell of a site worse.

We talked or argued or whatever you want to call it with no actual conclusion. Nothing came out of it. NOTHING!

My parents knowing I'm unhappy doesn't help anything. That's why I hadn't told them. I don't know how to talk to them anymore. I didn't want them knowing because it meant that when I was home at least it didn't feel like I was walking on eggshells.

Which is what it feels like now. I was just starting to find existance bearable yesterday, depsite being knackered. Now I feel like shit yet again. Now I am so wound up I've been sick. Pretending, no matter how hard it got, meant I had some normality in my life. Now I don't. I have a great big urge to go up the hill behind my house and scream until I'm sick. Or cry like hell.

And I get to feel like this again when my dad comes home and has the same talk with me.

FUCK.