About it being semi-okay, I mean. That whole judge thing won't happen until this summer, wink wink nudge nudge.

Yesterday was his birthday, as I pointed out in the previous entry. And even though he said he didn't want me to come back, I took it upon myself to buy him a nice birthday present as well as a card, wrap it up all neat and pretty, then go to his house for a little while to see him open his gifts and wish him a happy birthday.

So I go and do all that, and I have to go through hell AGAIN with him and Evil Stepmother From Hell. It's supposedly "his week" for the new year, seeing as my mother just had "her week" with me for Christmas. (I didn't mention that he was, of course, a bastard on Christmas Day because he wanted me to stay with him and not her, and we all know how that little dispute turned out, eh?)

Evil Stepmother From Hell (in the horribly evil, nasaly voice): "You're staying here tonight, right? For the rest of the week, right?"

Me: "No."

ESFH: "But it's our week!"

(I get just a TAD BIT PISSED OFF that she said 'our' like she actually had something to do with my life and that she had any effect whatsoever on my upbringing.)

Me: "But I don't want to stay. You guys are the ones that said not to come back, remember?"

And on. And on. AND. ON.

Until I told my dad that "hey bitch, I'm not staying and I'm calling my mom right this fucking second to get me the hell out of here" and he practically self-combusted and we were in a screaming fight.

"YOU'RE STAYING! IT'S MY WEEK!"

"YOU TOLD ME NEVER TO COME BACK!"

"YOU DON'T TAKE THAT SERIOUSLY! BE AN ADULT!!"

"LET'S SEE, WHO SHOULD BE MORE OF AN ADULT: ME OR YOU?!"

"THAT'S BESIDE THE POINT!"

"NO IT ISN'T! I HATE YOU!!!"

Eventually, my mother did come and I did leave on rather sour terms.

He expects me back today. I don't want to go, but I can't say that I'll get my way this time.

You've got to understand: my father is the most guilt-tripping, manipulative, lying asshole ever to walk the earth. He lied under oath when I was two fucking years old and said that my mother was a bad mom just so he could get domiciliary custody of me. He tried his whole lfie to keep my away from my mom. It's his mission in life, or something. He has this vendetta because my mom left him for my stepdad. (Who's not my stepdad anymore, they got a divorce.)

My dad thinks it's a matter of "it's just more fun over at your mom's house and over here you just have to be resopnsible" and he just doesn't get the fucking clue. I hate him, and I've been very clear no that point since I was a toddler. He wouldn't allow me on the stand in my trial because he knew I would say that I hated him and wanted to live with my mom. He's just such an asshole like that.

And what makes me even more angry is that he's completely two-faced. He's a minister. A FUCKING PREACHER. And he claims to be all insightful and wise and he's just the biggest asshole EVER and no one at his church seems to realize that.

He has a bad temper. He throws and hits things. Sometimes even me. My teachers and friends all know about it, but no one can get through to him what a bastard he is, because my stepmother controls his life and makes all his decisions and it's like they're in a box separate from the sane world.

All children have a right to choose who to live with when they're 12. But when you are assigned a judge at a trial early in life, you can't "switch judges." You're forever stuck with the one person who originally heard your case. My particular judge chooses not to listen to the wishes of children until they are fifteen. And she, along with my father and his Nazi entourage, have ruined my life, and I have to go back into her fucking courtroom for Mock Trial competition. And my life will be a living hell until this summer when I am able to choose. And I'm sure my dad will protest and throw a hissy fit over that, anyway.

You know what I got for Christmas over there?

Socks. And kumquats.

© alexa

The counter keeps breaking and pissing me off, so NO MORE COUNTER! Mwahaha!