I love my family. Very much. I just thought I'd clarify that before telling you that right now I want to kill them. I don't know whether it's my fault really. I'm 22, I like my own space, I've moved home after three years of living with friends 90 miles away and my tolerance is low when it comes to annoyance.
After spending a spectaular long weekend in Barmouth, Wales, I returned today literally five minutes before my dad and sister walked in the door. My sister, who at 11 has turned into a character from Kevin and Perry Go Large (a film she doesn't even know exists because it was before her time) stropped in without a smile, without asking about my weekend, and then proceeded to be everywhere I wanted to be. My father proceeded to tell me what a crap day he had in no certain terms willing me to ask why it was this way. I didn't.
Retiring to my room I tried to pretend they weren't there. They were ruining my post-holiday buzz. I was followed...my dad in a strop because now the boy is back he won't have a babysitter. (The boy is back literally just for four nights and then he's off to Europe for a month before returning to Leeds...I mean Christ, cut me some slack.) Then he shouts at me because I don't want to know what's been happening in my very short absense and strops out telling me to ring my aunty.
I swear, I live with mental people. This or I'm mental. According to my doctor I'm too stressed and need to reduce the stress, "is that possible?" My response: "I live with my dad, what do you think?"...turns out she'd seen my dad just that morning so no wonder she kept her mouth shut and just gave me a knowing look. According to my cheerful father depression has some genetic elements and so in 20 years I'll be rather like he is now. Lord help me. One thing's for sure...I've came back to reality with a right bump when I walked through that door.