Free A Fucked Up Life in Books by Anonymous

DON’T. CARE’.
    Jesus Christ, this was all a bit much. Should I go upstairs? If I made a noise where I was they would both hear me and know I’d heard their whole conversation. If I was quiet then maybe they’d go away and I could ever-so-quietly sneak up to my bedroom and lock myself in there. The problem was that I’d just finished my third cup of coffee and I needed to piss desperately. I would just have to sit still for a while and see what happens.
    Her: ‘I feel like I’m always having to compete with her. Everyone likes her better, I’m new to the group. I don’t know what they see in her, they’re all like ‘oh, she’s SO funny!’ but I don’t see it. She’s not funny, she’s not even fucking interesting. How could anyone be fucking interested in her?’
    Fucking bitch!
    Him: She’s a nice girl.
    Her: She’s not a nice girl, she’s a cunt!
    I’ll let her have that one.
    Him: She’s alright, I don’t want her though, I want you.
    Her: *inaudible mumbling*
    Him: *inaudible mumbling*
    Were they going to fuck? I hoped not, I didn’t need to hear that.
    I needed a piss very badly now. I had to get out of there. I looked at the empty Coke bottles by the bin. Could I very quietly piss in one of those? Probably not.
    I’d have to go out of the window. The window led into a kind of concrete hole thing that if I clambered out of I could then run round to the front of the house, let myself in and run upstairs to piss and then hide. Perfect.
    Trying to climb out of a tiny window without pissing yourself and without making a sound is no easy feat, but being an absolute fucking legend, I managed it pretty painlessly.
    I ran round to the front of the house. Guess what I didn’t have? Keys.
    I rang the bell.
    The girl answered the door.
    ‘Helllooooo,’ I cooed as I dashed past her. I was going to fucking piss myself.
    Her: ‘Why aren’t you wearing any shoes?’
    Me: ‘Byeeeeeee.’
    I didn’t go downstairs again that day. Later in the day the girl’s boyfriend knocked on my door and handed me
Stone of Tears
.
    ‘You forgot this.’

Wild Swans
    If there is one day of the year that fills me with dread, it is Mother’s Day. I don’t speak to my Mum, so Mother’s Day is not such a big deal for me. While friends are organising a nice dinner, searching for the perfect greetings card and buying flowers and cake, I usually just toy with whether or not to send my Mum a card as a part of ‘damage control’ plan, or whether to just leave it and see what happens. Sometimes she says nothing. Sometimes she is, frankly, a nasty and manipulative cunt.
    I spent quite a few years looking after my Mum. Not because she was an invalid, but because she was an idiot. I don’t feel like I should do that anymore, and so I don’t.
    But I used to go to her house, look through the cupboards, make a list and go shopping, tidy up, clean the kitchen and hoover everywhere, take the many empty wine bottles to the recycling bins, and let her get on with drinking, or working, or seeing her friends.
    I never lived with her after she left. One day I walked round to her house, as usual. I got my key out and opened the door and shouted for her. A woman that I’d never seen before came out of the living room and introduced herself to me. Halfway through her introduction my Mum came stumbling into the hallway after her, telling me that this was her friend. Her
best
friend.
    ‘How long have you known each other?’ I asked.
    ‘A week,' they answered.
    The offered me some wine. I declined. They offered me a cigarette. I declined. They both went back into the living room and sat down on the one sofa that my Mum has in her house. I went into the kitchen to unpack the shopping I’d brought round and to start making Mum (and now her friend, too) some lunch. If I didn’t go round and put food on a table in front of her she’d just forget to eat.
    As I was preparing lunch, I could hear their conversation.
    Mum’s friend: ‘I