/dysfunctional

I've already talked about this to my friend, but I need to post about it here too.
So this morning, it was around 6:30/7 and I was getting ready for my friend to come over at 7:30. Yes, am. Yes, we're freaks. But that's beside the point.
My mom came downstairs and woke up my brother, asking for a really important book back. Apparently, she gave it to him at the airport and he lost it there.
He then denied ever having the book.
My mom denied that. They both made claims. I stood in the washroom, trying to not listen, and put on my eyeliner, like the good little sc3n3 g1rl I am.
But they kept getting louder. Quickly.
And then they were screaming at each other.
Mama was convinced he lost it, and he continued to deny it.
So she went upstairs, and then he really lost his temper.
And... it was awful.
He yelled really mean things.
His voice could've knocked down walls, I swear.
I don't know why I'm spacing this entry out so much, I'll stop.
I can't even remember the last time I heard rage quite like that. So Mama came down and took away his keyboard, and was telling him how disrespectful he was. At this point, I was sitting on the bathroom floor, eyeliner in hand still, not crying, but certainly wishing for a dark hole. He was sooo mad at her, I was terrified. Especially after having decided that anger is my greatest fear, a few days ago.
I guess they sorted it out eventually, but... still. Ugh. Now I wonder why anger upsets me so much. It seems like everyone handles it just fine, and then there's me...
I think, my father was an angry character. I'm pretty sure mama's told me that before. I sound so olden day when I say mama. Anyway, yeah. I think he kicked holes in walls. I think he did a lot of things. I wonder if that's where Taylor gets his occasional temper from. I hope I didn't inherit it. I avoid anger at all costs.
It's weird, knowing that there's a good chance that the person who created you could've been a "bad person". It makes me feel like I have another personality inside of me who is a horrid person and wants so badly to not give two shits, and let go of everything, because I don't actually need it. Crappy, isn't it?

But majority of me just wants to believe the stories aren't true, or at least, are really biased. I want to love this stranger, and have endless amounts of respect for him.

I always want a father.

Woooooooo, that little post took a turn.

On the topic of parents, what I've also come to realize is that telling your parent something is one of the most difficult things there is for a lot of kids/teens.
There's something on my mind, and I really feel like I should talk to my mother about it before it gets out hand, but I'm just so damn scared. What's she going to do? Judge me? Be disappointed? HATEME?

But that's ridiculous. She doesn't hate me for the million things I've broken, for getting crappy grades occasionally, for failing to fold laundry on time, for doing bad things, or for just being an all around not-so-ideal daughter.

Why should this be any different? She should be proud of me, for taking responsibility. It's not like I haven't done worse.

Parents love us, don't they? They have that unconditional love thing.

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The End.

Also, I can't believe I posted all that. I might delete it later. I don't know. I feel so uncomfortable opening up. I think I'm going to sew my lips shut. Bye.