So, I wake up today, and my mom tells me she saw my Youtube videos. If you don't know by now, I have comedy videos on Youtube. Anything from play-on skits to short rants full of censored raunchiness. I enjoy making people laugh, and I always come up with ideas for comedies, so I figured I'd try them on Youtube and see where it gets me. I mean, at the end of the day, it's comedy. It's just fun and jokes. I like to enjoy life, or, rather, I WANT to enjoy life. Now, mind you, my mother is a "holier than thou" Christian. Not only that, but an Extremist, and of course, the cliche`, contradicting, hypocrite Christian. My whole life she's done nothing, but criticize me (Like Christians), denounce me in the "name of Jesus" (Like Christians), attempt to point out my flaws and knowingly deny her own (Like Christians) and so forth. Not once has she actually been a "mother" to me, besides times when she was actually cool, and when she wanted something from me. All my life, all she ever did was build me up, and break me down. As if I'm a human construction site, for her to send her wrecking ball of wrath and discontent with life at. She's always treated me like crap, and at one point, I had to accept that, that's how it's going to be for the rest of my life. Or, until I can escape this mental prison. She's manipulated me, with dreams, and high hopes; Fallacies that would never become true. I am nothing more than a puppet, that knows the truth behind her actions, but due to unfortunate situations and circumstances, I have no choice but to unwillingly abide by them. For years, it's been the same cycle. Her abusing me, and kicking me out. Yes, I was abused as a child. There is a difference between discipline, and outright abuse. I was taken from her when I was one, due to negligence. I have many stories, like the one time she chased me all around the city, and I had nothing on but shorts, a shirt, and socks. Not even shoes on my feet. Laying in a cold puddle, late at night, crying myself to sleep, because she put me out. All of the times, I ran to the police station, battered and bruised, and she coaxed the officers into an apocryphal saga about how much she does for me, and they put me right BACK in the home. All of the times she told me I was going to a shelter. I know what you're thinking. "Well, what did YOU do?". I can only say this: My mother is a person who isn't pleased with anything. It's too hot, it's too cold, it's too much a little of both (Lukewarm). She is one of the many people, who like to nitpick, and complain just because they apparently love to hear themselves talk, or they feel the need to judge people, to make them feel better about themselves. She says she is a Christian, and a worshiper of the father. What father? Satan? Ha! She's one of those close-minded Christians who treat people any kind of way, and then tries to outweigh it with "good deeds" and a redemption prayer at the end of the day. She will treat a person on the streets better than me. She only does good things because of her fear of damnation and wreckage. If there were no ramifications for doing what you want, I'd doubt she'd do half of the things she does. Why does she hate me so much?
I never had my father, or a father figure around. No older brothers, no one to look to for guidance and/or consolation.
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