…

I’m a little bit frustrated with him. Just a little.

First of all, Gina wasn’t acting like a parent, idiot. She was acting like a concerned big sister, and you have absolutely no right to tell her not to be a  concerned big sister. You and mom both constantly yell at me and Gina for being mean to Ricky, and yet, for some awfully strange, unforeseen reason, you, Dad, feel like you have the right… no, you seem to have the nerve to tell Gina that she was butting in?

If you’re going to play it like that, then you were butting in too, because this little bike affair was none of your business either. It was completely Ricky’s business. You shouldn’t have said anything either Dad, because you weren’t directly involved. Being able to hear it out your window doesn’t mean that it concerns you.

Don’t try to be anyone’s father after you’ve been ignoring us for the past eight years. More specifically, don’t try to act like Ricky’s father after you’ve been ignoring him for eight years. No, make that twelve years. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you show an ounce of affection for either of your boys, even though they look up to you more than me and Gina ever will.

We’re not ganging up on you. This is me talking from my perspective. Gina didn’t con me into this and I’m not being biased. I haven’t liked you at all in a long time, and most certainly haven’t respected you. But that doesn’t mean that I’m just agreeing with Gina because I don’t like you. I’m agreeing with Gina because she’s right and you are wrong. I’m sorry to have to break the news to you, but I’m still smart enough to be able to tell when you’re just being a douche and Gina’s getting angry.

Oh, yes, there was one more thing I wanted to mention. It’s a little bit… well, okay, its completely off topic, but I still wanted to mention it. No, I’m not going to listen to any crap about how you’re trying. I don’t even give a damn anymore.

Stop pretending that you’re concerned about me. I’m just about sick and tired of you constantly saying that “You’re worried about me” and that “If I need to rant, I can just come to you,” Because I know that it’s not true. If I tried ranting to you about you then you would get defensive. And don’t tell me that you won’t because you will. Besides that, you don’t even know what the hell I need, so shut up! I don’t need to rant! I don’t need to yell! What I need is something that you can’t give, never will, and never did! I don’t need you’re help, I’ll fix my damn problems on my own, so stay out my way!

Millie Vanilli is one of my best friends. One of my very few and scarce friends. Derek and Mama both are in the spotlight this time, and I’m going to be merciless.

I don’t know how he did it, but he somehow plucked up the courage to tell me a story about him practically attacking Millie and nearly giving her a fatal fucking heart attack. So I’m pissed at him now, and I probably would’ve slapped him if I had been a little crazier. I don’t care what kind of excuses he can pull out of his ass about how he needs to ‘discipline’ her and teacher her what she’s not allowed to do. Hitting her as hard as possible with a fucking broom will kill her.

Derek and Mama both chase Millie around the kitchen with brooms and slippers and shit, and hit her and practically beat the crap out of her. I swear to fucking God, if you assholes kill one of my best friends, I will go fucking ballistic. I’m not kidding around anymore. If you kill my cat, I will kick your ass. I don’t care if your my parents and I shouldn’t hit you, and I don’t care if your bigger than me. I don’t care anymore; kill my cat and you will die.

You keep complaining about how she jumps on the counters. Well, you know what? If you idiots would rinse shit off once in a while and refill her water bowl, she wouldn’t have a reason to jump on the counters. She wouldn’t bother, because there would be no food for her to get. It’s not hard to figure out. You always come to me and tell me to do the dishes before you kill Millie. I’m not joking around anymore; say that to me again, and I will flip shit on you. I’m not afraid to bitch slap anyone who pisses me off.

Like I said earlier, if Millie dies at the hands of Mama or Derek, I’m going to go crazy. Just because she jumps on the counters doesn’t mean you need to attack her with a fucking broom, you assholes. She’s almost seventeen, isn’t she? That’s approximately 119 years old in cat years. Do you really think that her body will be able to handle being beaten all the damn time? Maybe she has a reason for always eating food. Maybe she’s SICK. Have you stopped to think about that? Maybe she has a bug, or a virus and she’s constantly eating because of it. Beating the crap out of her isn’t going to fix that. If you idiots would get a real fucking job instead of trying to make a living off a job that earns you about 2 cents every month, and maybe get some money together and take her for a check-up, we could FIX THIS PROBLEM.

Maybe that was mean of me to say; that you all have shitty jobs and need to work on getting something real to do. But I don’t care. I have never been so fucking pissed off at you guys in all my life. You’ve been treating Millie like shit, and I’m fucking sick of it. Leave my damn cat alone. I’m surprised she isn’t trying to run away.

I’m done. You can comment about it all you want and pull excuses out of your ass. I don’t care what you have to say; she’s my friend, and you’ve been hurting her.