a rumble a rant a rave

ok so i'm not really gointg to pitch a fit and whine and cry one here at all, but really, a lot of things have been bugging me lately and this is what i want to say.

listen. last night i had to sleep on the floor of my sisters bedroom and i didn't flip you off in public. you know why? because you'd probably think that had the power to send me to hell for eternity. bullcrap. so i just put my hands inside my sleeping bag and flipped you off like 30 times instead. let me tell you, that middle finger after having no solitary time onstage since that time i was dard to walk down the hall in first grade with the bird held high, it felt good. i had a flipping off frenzy, just me and the floor. but you were on the floor. duh. i don't think its fair whne you say "hm" to what i want to do or be. you ask me where im going to school, i give you an honest answer and you "hm" me. is that fair? no. ok, if you don't believe in me, just say so. that or don't say anything at all. i spent 4 hours at a coffee shop by myself today. i preferred to be in a booth eating by myself where it was 40 degrees and my butt got tired of sitting and i read 50 pages of ibsen all because that was monumentally better than being picked at by you.
and yet i feel bad. i feel bad for seeing you only 3 times a year. im afraid i'll turn into you. i'm afraid that when i get old like you i'll try to climb stairs only to find out that i can't and that i need to hold on to something. im afraid that i'll turn into you and think that having children and cleaning house and cooking hot meals every night are the duties of a woman, which aren't bad, but they're required, apparently. i don't want to tell my daughter that her husband is fat. i don't want to tell my daughter that if she doesn't stop eating then she'll look like her daddy's mother, who was fat and soft and died at 52 years old. hell, i think, at least she was happy. i just don't want to be you. i love you, but i can't be myself around you. you were the one who told me i couldn't have communion because i wasn't baptized. but mom still said you loved me and i didn't understand.
but i still sleep with that blanket that you crocheted me every night, because you said it was made with love, and on that day i believed it.