Last night was fun.
I’m now officially homeless. Staying with my nan and looking at flats and houses to rent with Martin.
And you know what? I’m pretty happy about it. I’m glad I’ll be away from that place with the person I love most of all in the world. I’m glad we’re making that final push.
I’m not happy about leaving my sisters, though. Or my dogs. In fact, I keep randomly crying. The fact that my mother threw a glass bottle at my head and stood in the street punching me doesn’t bother me so much. But the thought that one of my sisters will get the same treatment? The fact that they have to deal with that woman? The fact that Lola is old and could die without me seeing her again because I’m not allowed in the house?
That fills me with dread.
I knew my mother hated me, but I didn’t know that much. I’m the reason she’s on anti-depressants, she tells me. I’m a lazy cunt, she tells me. But I know she’s wrong. I’m better than her, or that house, or that life. This is my chance to rise from the ashes of the last 19 years of my life and come out shining.
And I will. You just watch me.