Dear Mother

You shouldn't work nights, ever again because it turns you in to a super bitch. And nobody likes a super bitch. It's annoying. It makes me dislike you. You work night one day, and then you're home the next two days, sleep. Saying working nights throws off your sleeping schedule. I think that you saying that is the biggest crock of shit ever. It's annoying. And last night was the fucking straw that broke the camel's back. I bring you dinner, I didn't get paid back, not even a thank you. And then you and Joi decide to fight and BOTH of you continuously kick me in the back. And I blow up, as expected, but it's my fault, right? Like how is that even fair? You're such a dumb broad in that case. And you wonder why I'm never home. I can't stand the fights that Joi has with everybody. I'm sick of not having space for me to do anything. I'm sick of everybody bitching. I really just need one job. One thing to do.