vague mystique.

NOTE: This entire entry is basically a written mental breakdown. If this isn’t your cup of tea, kindly skip down to the post after this one, which is more cheerful and about Youtube videos!

“I don’t think she wants me here.”

“You’re fine.”

This is part of the conversation that Winifred and my grandmother are having in the kitchen. Winifred just woke up, having came here around two o’ clock in the afternoon to sleep because my alcoholic mother, whom she has been staying with ever since the fiasco at my house, will not let her sleep. Serena’s room was the place where she decided to crash. Serena is not happy with this. My grandmother, who naturally has a large pole stuck up her old ass, is not happy that Serena is using the new laptop, that Serena lives here, and that Serena exists. She is also not happy with my “attitude”. Winifred is not happy because Serena and I gave her the opposite of a warm welcome. I am not happy because this entire family never ceases to make my life difficult at best.

Ever since Winifred made her dramatic exit from the household, I have refused to maintain any type of relationship with her and have made it clear on several occasions to my grandmother that she is not welcome in the house. Serena, for her own personal reasons, feels the same way, but at a smaller level. My grandmother, on the other hand, has forgiven Winifred entirely, and feels that since she is her daughter, she is welcome in the house anytime she feels the need to grace us with her presence. If she wanted to take my room too, and force me out of the house to live on the streets, that would also be wonderful, because the world is always a better place when Rosalie isn’t around.

Even though my grandmother has told me repeatedly how unwelcome I am living in my own house, and how Winifred is liked so much more than me, I refuse to sway from my position that Winifred needs OUT and Rosalie should stay IN. I absolutely, positively, hate Winifred’s guts. She has failed me entirely too many times, and I have forgiven her entirely too many times. The drug episode a few weeks ago was the absolute last straw. And Winifred knows this.

See, Winifred is afraid of me. She has not underestimated my power and knows what I am capable of. As a result of this, she never comes to the house while I am there, and usually checks with my grandmother to see what my schedule is so she can avoid me easily. I have only seen her three times since she left in January, and during those three times, I have only said one word to her: Hello. I’m not kidding; that’s all I say. Twice she has spent hours here, and I have managed to stay in the house the entire time and get away with only saying that one word. A few times I have been in the same room and managed to ignore her completely.

Every time she comes while I am here, it always causes so much fucking drama in my house. My grandmother gets overly agitated with me because I never talk to her and say, “Hello,” with clear malice, and we always end up fighting, and she always ends up yelling at me and saying how much of a bad person I am, and I always get frustrated and have to refrain from hitting her, and she keeps telling me to move out and how I’m the essence of Satin, and I always end up thoroughly suicidal and sitting in the dark in my room while she goes to watch television. Then I feel bad because she’s getting up there in age and I could cause her to have a fatal heart attack, and end up talking to her the next morning like nothing has happened out of guilt.

When it comes to Serena, every time Winifred is here my grandmother and Serena always get into a horrible fight. They scream, they yell, they say treacherous things, and sometimes they get physical. Objects have gotten broken. Serena usually ends up crying and storming out of the house, probably to go drown her sorrows in drugs, alcohol, and food. Once her foot crosses the threshold in exit and the door slams shut, my grandmother comes and finds me, blames the entire episode on me, yells at me for no reason, and then we end up getting into a fight and the process stated above occurs again.

Winifred and my grandmother rarely fight. This is probably because my aunt is a manipulative backstabbing chameleon and can change her loyalty to someone like THAT. This is another reason why I don’t like her. She can be best friends with you one day, and then the next, your worst enemy. Or both- she could be a spy. I have witnessed it all.

As I lay here on top of my bed with my cat, isolated in my room, I have no idea where I am going with this blog. I believe I am just ranting, which probably isn’t the best reading material. How did I even get to this point? Oh, yeah. The quote. Well, maybe I should explain the quote and at least give this entry some meaning.

I already told you that this was part of the conversation between Winifred and my grandmother in the kitchen, but what I didn't say was what exactly they were talking about and why. They were actually chatting right after my sister stormed out of the house crying, after my grandmother tore her apart in another "I wish you didn't exist," battle. This has been brewing for a while, because my grandmother has been bitching about how she doesn't want Serena on the laptop because her and her vile will tear the thing apart (Lie) for a few days now. They also fought about Winifred, because, well, if a person you hated was asleep in your bed, and going to crash in there all night without your permission, how would you react? You'd probably complain. Which is what Serena did.

Yell yell yell, blah blah blah, you know what happened. It ended with Serena storming out of the house crying, as I said, and my grandmother going to yell at me, which could be guessed. After she finished with me she went into the kitchen, where seconds later my aunt went into and stated, "I don't think she wants me here."

NO. FUCKING. SHIT. SHERLOCK.

"You're fine."

No, no, you're not. You are SO not fine. You need to go toss yourself off a bridge. Shoot yourself, maybe. Eat a poisonous rat? Overdose on drugs again (She did a few years ago). Just, something. SOMETHING.

And while you're at it, stop blaming my fucking sister, who was home a total of ninety seconds before all Hell broke loose, and COME AT ME. I am the one who refuses to talk to you and walks past you in the house without saying a word. I am the one who hates you more than anyone else. I am one who wants to beat you to death with a club. I am the one that tried to be a martyr and move out of the house a few weeks ago and was fucking shoved against the wall by my fucking grandmother, had my posters ripped to shreds by her, and cried for the first time in years because of YOU.

Do you not get it? Do you not understand that I would happily have a row with you? That I would fight you? That I would do just about anything to get you out of my life? If I thought it would help, I would go outside right now and slash your tires, or put a bottle full of crushed Tylenol in a drink and offer it to you as a peace offering. I would take my laptop and hit you over the head with it. I would walk around my town naked with the words, "I HATE WINIFRED," painted on my bare back. I would become a prostitute to raise money to buy you a ticket to Hanover to get you away from me.

I am Rosalie fucking Bass, and I can accomplish anything. I'm pretty, I have more mental strength than you could ever comprehend, I'm stubborn, and I have connections. I'm intelligent, I think ahead, and I know how to hitchhike. I have balls. I'm fearless. I'm heartless. I'm ruthless. I can act. I know how to get the blades out of the razor blades you shave with and I know which veins to hit to kill you. I can be stealthy. I can BE the darkness. I AM the darkness. I am with you, always, waiting to strike.

I would probably make a good mass murderer.