WHAT THE FUCK! It wasnt enough that he took away my fucking interentet privileges for a week when I try to get back on I realize it has been BLOCKED. What is wrong with him? First of all I know how to undo the parental control so hes a fucking moron. He takes away my right to put a picture of our president on my wall and my right to a fair wage then he takes away my right to use the internet freely? Hes a fucking FACIST.
He also went through MY tumblr and saw vaginas and got angry at me. He said I cant just be a lesbian to be a lesbian and that its insulting. WTF. Its insulting to tell me I CANT be a lesbian. UGGHHHH. Im so fucking angry.
Well, bless your heart! You, yourself, have said you just came back from the hospital because of internet harassment. I’m going to translate that as people were giving you hell, and it triggered (note the proper use of the word) a break. Now your parents are concerned because you go right back to the thing that triggered the break. Of course they are going to want to block that thing that caused you pain. It’s no different than a parent making sure his child isn’t doing drugs or hanging out with druggies after coming back from rehab.
You are 20-something, it’s time to get a job. You are no longer entitled to ANYTHING your parents have. By law, you are considered an adult. You want internet? You want a picture of your president on the wall? Get a job, pay for your privileges. You’re not entitled to anything, my dear. Your father pays for everything, and that means he makes the rules. Don’t like it, do something about it — complaining about it doesn’t count.
Your dad also has a point about the lesbian thing. Your post, titled “I became a lesbian,” means its unnatural — at least for you. You’re forcing yourself into this behavior, and your dad is calling you out on it. Homosexuality isn’t just a switch you flick on-and-off.
Also, you talk about being oppressed? What about the fact that not only is your father alive, he has chosen to stay in your life? DO you know how many kids come from fatherless homes, sperm-donors that just walked out on their pregnant wives/girlfriends. What about all the families who lost a father too soon to death? I think you should be pretty thankful that your dad loves you enough that he wouldn’t abandoned you.
I have 3 people I can count on to NEVER let me down.
1 of them let me down last night. So my immature solution is to sulk and write papers. At least I’m admitting I’m being immature AND getting work done, right?
However, here comes the identity crisis:
Most don’t know my three year period of serious black eyeliner, fishnets, vintage tees, torn jeans with writing on them, ect. ect. (the final year of this stage was “goth” but that’s a story for another day).
Just to get a picture of how I was dressing: think Peyton Sawyer (Seasons 1-3 One Tree Hill) meets Effy Stonem from Skins. Granted, my stomach never showed because I was always self concious.
I don’t know why I’m dressing this way now. Yeah, I’m home for spring break, yeah one of my best friends is being a serious jerk, but I’m questioning myself over this whole thing. Why did I become preppy? Was it just to fit in after my horrible start to high school? Was I finally accepting that bad stuff happens and to move on? I never really asked myself why I changed, it was just sudden thing.
Sorry for the minor identity crisis, I’m just upset and in black. (Any one know any Red Doors that need painting?)
I was absolutely gorgeous in high school. I know that probably sounds cocky, but hear me out. I had the worst self-esteem in high school. 4 years of depression, accompanied with an eating disorder and constantly being told I’m not good enough probably have something to do with that. It’s just sad I never saw myself the way I see myself now. Sure, I have my flaws, but I’m ok with them now. I also need to remind myself, as I look through these old photos, that I destroyed all the “dark years” evidence: I don’t have any of me as a walking skeleton— I think only 3 were taken that year of me — and I don’t have any of me in my goth stage (yep, black makeup and purple streaks/tips). Maybe these old photos aren’t the perfect representation of all my high school years, but I wish I could back and tell myself that I am truly beautiful. Maybe then, I wouldn’t have felt so ugly all the time.