This day, this day of wrath/Shall consume the world in ashes

So I don't really know what to say today. I went to work, which was (wonderfully) uneventful. I came home, read a bit, took a nap, received some disappointing news, overreacted to said news, bitched to my sister about said news, ate dinner, read some more, and took a shower. I'm kind of, mostly better now, because (I think) I've found a way around the problem that arose (I hope). I'm not sure yet, because life has a way of sucking ass.
Speaking of sucking, my mom showed me (again) the bill from my hospital stay, and after I told her that yes, I'd seen the original balance, she muttered something about "We don't have the money for this," which makes me wonder why the hell she let me go in the first place. If it's such a problem, mother, then don't offer to drive me there, don't offer to let me live at home while I get my act together so that you can cover my medical bills and don't let me go in the first place. All your muttering and glowering and whingeing about costs does is make me feel even worse about being sick in the first place, which in turn makes me worse. Why can't you understand that? Don't you realise that I already carry shitloads of guilt around every day, solely because I feel that I shouldn't even exist? If it's such a fucking problem you should have just let me die on my bedroom floor seven years ago when you found me that night. Pick one or the other, but don't get all concerned about me and then gripe about the costs afterwards. It doesn't do anybody a lick of good and all it does is make me even more resentful. It's precisely this kind of crap from you that makes me hate talking to you, that makes me want to get away from you and never see you again.

Sorry, guys. That was uncalled for and I know it wasn't something you particularly wanted to see, read, or even know about.

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