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Some actual blogging… well, kinda.

April 24, 2010

… Eh, or whatever that’s supposed to mean. But here’s a more… diary-ish post, rather than the usual dose of nerdiness. ^^’

So, today (though it’s “yesterday” now…) was girl’s night, or whatever we call it. It’s boyfriends and brothers and stuff there too now, so I guess that’s not what we’re calling it any more, but still. It was all really fun, as usual. We got ice cream. 8D

Then I got home.

Earlier today, Mum had been going on about how that she had broken up with Bengt. I just nodded and was all “well, that’s good”, since it’s about the 500th time she’s done that. -_- She keeps going back to him, you see, so I don’t have really big hopes.

Although every time it happens, I keep hoping for that finally, finally, she’s realised how he’s hurting her and had enough of it. But no. >_<

When I got home today, she was sitting in the sofa, on the phone, and crying her eyes out. Nothing new, it’s how those “I’ve broken up with Bengt”-days usually ends. Quickly, I was there, trying to comfort her. She asked me to leave, I didn’t, and she started holding my hand and being all thankful.

Then, she asked me, still crying, to take the phone and tell Bengt that she loved him. “Do this one thing for me.” she said.

I don’t know how many times I’ve tried to talk to Bengt, tell him things Mum wants me to. I don’t want to get involved one more time, not when the only thing I want to tell him is to piss off and leave her alone. Which I wont, ’cause Mum wouldn’t like that. She apparently likes getting hurt again and again and again and again…

So I refused. If I don’t get to tell him what I want to tell him, I’m not talking to him at all. If Mum wants to cry her eyes out over a guy who doesn’t care, that’s her problem. I’m tired of being involved in that. It drags me down too, and I wont have this spring ruined by being all depressed and stuff like I was last year during this time.

When I refused, she tried to beg some more, but I was set. I told her no. Then she told me to piss off, and that if I didn’t want to do this one thing for her, then she didn’t need me comforting her either, thank you very much.

What else could I do but leave? -__- Just asking. And now here we are again, not talking, the house stinking of alcohol, with me sitting here worrying about what will happen next, while feeling like my own mum isn’t actually worth me caring about her enough to sit up in the middle of the night, waiting to make sure she eventually gets into bed.

Thank heavens for the distraction that is Being Human. ❤

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