|Emily AC: Multi-Talented Comedian||
I get you guys... you have no idea. I understand everyone--no matter what you say. If you lie to me; I won't always call you out. Why? Because--I think about why you lied. If I think your lie doesn't hurt anything... truly, I don't care. I lie, as well. But my lies are small and cute, usually. It's not for manipulation.
My mom is a grand manipulator. She can get morons to believe anything she tells them. Some of her biggest fans are republican. I added that to prove a valuable point about republicans. "Republican" is not the proper label for a person that thinks rape should be protected, whilst heavily regulating birth control (or restricting it), whilst also degrading many, many different groups of people! No. The true label is "RETARD." (duh)
Many of my mom's retarded friends think I gave her nothing but grief through life. I bet they've heard her say that I'm her "worst child." I really hope my mom's retarded friends read that, someday. Or today. That's fine. Basically--if you think my mother is a charming, wonderful, caring person... please go fuck yourself, because you're STUPID!
Two sides to every story, folks. Let me put it to you this way... if you knew your child had a high IQ? Very high? You knew it. What would you do?
Get them tested for confirmation. Look into schools for the gifted. Find a way to afford it--like working a second job, or something... then you would encourage them and tell them how proud of them you are.
My mother found out that two of her children had the same IQ score. The male got to go to good skool. The female didn't.
Vincent didn't stay at the good school. Breck. We couldn't afford it. That wasn't the point. Mommy knew Vince would make the fast track. She also knew I would be placed on the fast track, as well... But because Vincent went to Breck, his personal skills were identified and he got to study highly advanced math when he was in middle school.
It's not just that my mom wouldn't let my skills become identified; she did my best to convince me that I had none. She called me talentless, frequently. She called me awful, selfish, wrong. I had crippling depression. My siblings beat me, everyday. My mom watched them beat me and called it "rough housing."
My brother and sister used to hold me down when I was crying and screaming so they could take turns torturing me. Hitting for Vince... scratching for Nina. When mom wasn't around they were worse. Throw a blanket over my head and use it like a net and drag my ass down the stairs. They wouldn't stop unless they really hurt me and I was hollering bloody murder from the pain they would inflict. My mom called me a liar.
She called Nina her "good kid." Always. Nina would never do a thing like that. She called Vince a "good boy." You are LUCKY to have a brother that actually talks to you. I always disagreed.
I gave her hell for it. I didn't understand her. I kept trying to prove to her that I was a courteous, good-natured child, that had talents. I wrote this thing... I have a solo at school... I was the only kid in this difficult class that got a perfect 'A' on this really hard test. She ignored it and called me an attention-seeking BRAT!
I actually came up with ways to get me better schooling that were free by the time high school hit. There was still childhood time to run away from eastview high hell... high school. All they required was a god damn SIGNATURE OF A FUCKING PARENT!
NO! My dad wouldn't sign it because mom wore the fucking pants! It was never a real marriage... My mom found a sucker and milked that shit. I hate my mom for abusing my dad... I feel like it must've torture to watch his children getting tortured and not know what to do about it. 2 b cont...