i'l mend myself before it gets me...

call your name every day, when i seem so helpless,
i'm falling down, but i'll rise above this, rise above this doubt.

she always yells at me. and its for petty things.
WE RAN OUT OF DISINFECTIVE WIPES? WHY DIDN'T YOU TELL ME WHEN I ASKED IF WE NEEDED ANYTHING??
cause i thought you only meant food, like usual.
YOU CAN'T JUST LEAVE THIS TUBBERWARE OUT, DO SOMETHING WITH IT?!?!
do what? you already told me i can't throw away half of them, and none of them have tops and or bottoms to go with them, so i cant put them away. where the fuck do i put them?
DYLLAN. CLEAN THE FANS!
i'm going to after this show, shit.
I TOLD YOU TO FUCKING WASH AND DRY THE MAT!! THEY WERE UP THERE TAKING SHOWERS AND HAD TO WALK TO TILE!!! WHAT THE FUCK IS WRONG WITH YOU?!
i'm sorry. i forgot. i have other things on my mind.
yes, they walked on tile, but they survived, didn't they? yes, yes they did.
so why yell at me, cause i forgot to put the mat in the dryer, when you have 5drunk girls upstairs, 4 of them underage, and all you say to them is, "if you go out, make sure the most sober person drives."
this is the first time i've cried so hard that i had to put my hands in my head,
and i shook,
and my knees almost gave out.
and as she sits across from me at this moment,
i try to ignore her,
and make as little talk as i can, knowing i'd burst into tears again.
i don't think she understands. i have problems, i don't remember a thing.
doesn't she realize that i hate coming home?
that i'd rather stay at school than to be home with her?
i hate that i hate being home, but i can't help it.
i've tried to expressed to her my problems multiple times.
i'm paranoid of every little thing.
i'm add.
i'm ocd.
i know i have some sort of eating disorder.
somedays i can't even get out of bed cause i'm so depressed.
but she just dismisses it and tells me to stop complaining, and to listen to her bitch about how much she hates her job.
i've also tried to express to her how i am not my sister.
i am not a straight a student.
i am not tall and beautiful.
i am not an amazing athlete who can get a scholarship to any fucking college i want.
i do not have to cute and sweet baseball boyfriend.
i do not have the awesome friends.
i do not watch the hills with her, then talk for hours with her after.
i hate the hills.
i sit in my room alone on my computer, because i hate the majority of my "friends."
i will probably never have a boyfriend, or girlfriend for that matter.
i am almost the worst player on my bball team, and i never play in the games.
i'm almost the shortest one in my family, and i am not pretty in the slightest.
and i can't concentrate enough to make straight a's.
she's the favorite, and i don't know if i can deal with it.
but it would be easier if my mom would at least try to know a little about me,
other than i love my computer and MCR.
she doesn't even know who my friends are.
but she knows each and everyone of my sisters.
my sister is everything she could have ever wanted in a daughter,
i'm just the one who gives her hugs when my sister is away.
and i'm sorry.
i'm sorry i'm worthless.
i'm sorry i cry all the time.
i'm sorry i won't get a scholarship to college.
i'm sorry i'm not beautiful.
i'm sorry i'm not tall.
i'm sorry i don't socialize.
but i can't fix it.
and i wish you'd stop yelling at me.
it does nothing but kill me a little more each time.