#453.
I hate that you know what you're doing is wrong, yet you don't stop. I hate that you disregard the feelings of everyone that should matter to you, and go along with those others. I mean, yeah it's okay for them to come first some times, but otherwise, I think you need to reconsider who you prioritise. Because I'm sick of her coming home and taking her anger out on me because you're never here. I'm sick of trying to study through the sound of her voice. And you know what? Sometimes I begin to think I'm sick of you. Sick of your scheming, your blatant non recognition of her words. I don't care if you think those things are important. There are such things as family morals, and it hurts us all when you break them for other people who don't mean shit.

I know she's constantly complaining, but I think this time she's right. If not, then at least there's one ounce of truth, and maybe if you were here you'd feel regret. No, you know not of remorse. If you were here, all you'd feel is resentment. Then you'd pack your things and leave until dawn. I hate that you run away from everything here.
And I hate that I can't.


I swear to fucking God. I don't understand it. Now you're just plain finding reasons to yell at me. To yell at anyone. It's moments like these that I'm just so sick of your shit. And I'm fucking sure you're sick of me too. I wish I had the freedom to just get the fuck out of here the same way he does. I resent it, but I understand it. For fuck's sake right now.

Hello, this is Tien. This blog is the remains of the unconventional cliches and angsty phrases of my teenage years. (Plus a new one every now and then)
I ♥ Phoenix, (500) days of summer, double entendres, unmade beds, autumn, Chopin, syncopated melodies, G7 chords and things that make me feel.

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