I took her by both arms, forced her to sit, and told her that if she really does want my birthday to be happy, she would NOT try to die. I'm glad I took a nap, because it looks like I'll be up awhile. I'm so tired. I was trying to show her I was pi$$ed, not break down and cry. And she doesn't even care. She's just going to drink even harder tomorrow, because now I've gone and upset her. She asks me to help her get killed on my birthday, and SHE'S the one who's upset. Says I don't understand. Calls ME a ibtch.
Well, she's right; I don't understand. I don't understand how she could be so cruel. I don't understand why she hasn't been forced into a psych ward or a home and I don't understand why I'm still here! Bringing her whatever she needs, asking if there's anything she wants, holding her snotty hand for two hours while my food gets cold. You're right, I AM a ibtch.
Life has gotten so frustrating. I just want her to be normal again. This is the fourth time she's gone off on a suicidal, screaming, I-hate-my-kids, I-stab-people rant; and if I knew she would have turned out this way and my favorite person would have fukced off without an I love you or a Goddanm handshake, I would've fukced off first!
One day of the year and she won't do it! I wish I had a friend!