but now my mum's pissed off with me because I "should be ****ing brilliant, because [I'm] clever" and I'm not. Well, sorry mum.
I mean, it's not like you give a **** or anything; you think I'm a lazy, overweight liar. You still think I lie about lessons and being on time, when actually, the school tells you when I'm on time.
You think I shouldn't be allowed to go and see my girlfriend in cambridge, and you refuse to help me pay the train fare, because, even though she's lonely and upset a lot of the time, sometimes people "just need hardship in their lives," as you said. "Sometimes it's good to be lonely," you said.
You were the person who thought it was no big deal to get an offer, even though I was a) completely and utterly over the moon about getting my first offer from Nottingham, b) you told me in year 11 that I'd just end up at London Met anyway. If I was lucky, that is, and c) that I didn't think I'd get any offers anyway. When I suggest that you don't give a flying **** about what I do at school (even though you know my sister's rehearsal times for drama off by heart, you still, after a year and a half, still have to ask me what time my school finishes), you tell me that actually, you really care. Yeah. You're actual response to me bounding into the room saying excitedly that I'd had an offer from nottingham after applying just two days ago was "oh, someone told me it's a massive party campus, if you go there, you'll just be boozing all day." That was just the encouragement I need. You were the person who told me that you can just walk into university easily. You studied architecture at the glasgow school of art. The entry requirements are now ABB, including maths and physics. You did neither of those A levels, and you lied about what GCSEs you had (you actually had none) in order to get into your sixth form college. You and my father know **** all about UCAS and the application procedure.
You and my sister have told me repeatedly that you can't wait for me to leave. You've told me on certain occasions that you hope I go as far away as possible. I don't feel welcome in our flat any more and, if I'm honest, I don't want to feel welcome. I can't actually wait to leave myself. I'm 18 this year, and I can make my own ****ing decisions, and if I have to walk to Cambridge, then I will. I came close to running away from you twice in the last 4 days alone.
I want to leave. I just ****ing want to leave.