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So after many weeks of debate and discussion with myself I have come to the conclusion that I must either 1. Die. Or 2. Get my s**t together and move out. Considering the first option is pretty much out of the question right now, the second option has become the only viable option. The past few weeks, I have done nothing but fight with my parents until I'm to the point of tears, or rapidly swung from one mood extreme to the other, so much so that my parents asked me if I needed screening for bi-polar-ness.

Now comes the fun part. If I do get my stuff together where do I go... Someplace in town would totally zap any finances I have reserved for any future plans that may come to fruition with the boyfriend, and if I move to be with the boyfriend and he's not ready for me to be there constantly... Yeah. Bad move. I guess for the duration of this bad "spot" I just have to dig in and pretend I'm the only one in the house. Not too hard considering at this point in time other family members are focused on themselves.

Oh well, On roll christmas and the new year.