I've wanted one of those Fifth Generation Mustangs for a while now. I keep telling myself that I'll get one when I can afford it and the topic came up today at dinner. So my brother, Mom, and I were talking about cars and my Dad just couldn't help himself…

"Yeah, you have cars now and don't take care of them."

"A jalopy isn't the same thing as a nice Mustang, if I had one I'd take care of it. It'd be like my baby."

"Yeah well everyone says that but no one ever does anything to prove it."

"I've never had a nice car to prove it with…."

So we continued talking about cars and he cut in again…

"You two have some of the nicest rooms and you just junk them up, they look like hog pens."

At this point I decided to give up and go back to my room. I hate when he brings me down, I'm already feeling upset, I don't need more shit. And for the record, my room is a mess. I have no where to put anything because my Dad apparently never planned on me growing up so he stuck me in a room the size of a shoe box and expected me to be just fine with it. I don't complain, I'm fine with it but let's be real here…I've lived in this room since I was 5 and I have absolutely no floor now, everything is packed in too tightly. I don't know what he wants me to do here. Even my Gram – who is very strict – thinks my room is too small! Again, I don't mind but I don't know where he wants me to put stuff.

But whatever, he just likes to shit all over everything and everyone. Thanks for making me feel even worse.