On going home

I went home this weekend for the first time in about three weeks. And let me tell you I had to argue for the privilege.

There are the multiple reasons behind this.

First of all I was supposed to go to class on Saturday for the third time in a row because my teacher is trying to make us catch up on the times that he was absent. On a Saturday. Fucks sake. Anyway I was supposed to go but at the beginning of the week I had a mini meltdown, called my mum and said "yeah I really need to come home. Now. Or at least as soon as possible". And she told me that it was my choice, and as long as I got someone to give me the lessons done on Saturday then no problem.

Awesome.

But then TRAGEDY AND HORROR. My mum and stepdad and sister are all sick and so I receive orders to come no where near then. Ok. Ok. I can deal with this. Weekend at dads is good too. So I call my dad and ask, and then BAM. "Sorry Chloe but your brother and I are going to Brittany for three weeks so no you can't sorry bye"

FUCKING SHIT FUCKITY FUCK.

I. Want. To. Go. HOME.

So yeah, mini meltdown. In the end I just called my mum and pretty much said "yeah I have to come home or else I'm going to explode I don't care if you're sick I won't touch any of you guys I swear so yeah see you tonight BYE"

So I went home. And I saw a friend I hadn't seen in six months, and it was really awesome. I stayed out of the sick peoples way and hopefully I'm not sick too, but if I am well shit happens.

If this happens when I'm away from home for three weeks well then I don't want to think about me moving away even further from home.

Ugh horrible thoughts. Lets not even go there.