Free A Fucked Up Life in Books by Anonymous Page B

you didn’t.’
    I sat there the whole time thinking what a fucking two-faced cunt she was.
    The police and man left and I told my Mum that I was sick of this, I was sick of trying to help her. It wasn’t the first time, (and although I didn’t know it at the time, the last) but I told her I’d had enough.
    ‘Oh, well, aren’t you your Father’s daughter? You ungrateful little bitch. Do you know what your Father did to me?’ She then listed a lot of horrible things, all of which I’d heard before, none of which I believed were true.
    I asked her if she wanted to know why, when she left, my brother and I stayed with my Dad. She was silent, looking at me expectantly.
    I told her.
    She scowled at me.
    ‘Get the fuck out of my house, get the FUCK OUT.’
    And so I went.
    So for Mother’s Day I send her a card. It means that I don’t get that phone call telling me what a horrible bitch of a daughter I am, and I guess it probably makes her feel better and forgiven for some of the stuff she has done. My motivation for sending that card is selfishness: I want an easy life.

The Dice Man
    The great thing about doing a course at university where you’re supposed to spend a large percentage of your time reading shit to do with assignments, is that you can use basically all of that time doing whatever the fuck you feel like.
    I used to use it not to read policy and procedure and journals, but to read stuff that people had given to me, stuff that they had enjoyed themselves and thought that I might like too.
    It was one of these days that a friend of mine gave me a copy of
The Dice Man
. ‘You will like this,’ he said ‘but you will definitely become obsessed with it, because you’re just like that, so don’t read it if you have anything important to do for the next couple of weeks.’
    As someone who had recently skipped eight days of lectures to complete
Resident Evil 4
, I immediately embarked on the story of Luke Rhinehart and The Dice Life.
    For those who haven’t read it,
The Dice Man
is about a psychiatrist who develops a kind of therapy using dice to live life by chance, rather than by what is familiar. I read it, and (I assume) like many others before me decided that The Dice Life was what had been missing in my world.
    Rather than doing what came naturally, I began to tentatively use dice to decide what I was going to do. For example, I’d roll the dice in the morning: an odd number meant that I would get up early, have breakfast and go for a long walk; an even number would mean that I’d stay in bed all day masturbating. You get the idea.
    At first I only gave myself nice options, but after a couple of days I decided to brave it, and (as happens in the book) put options into the dice that I didn’t much fancy doing. I had one particularly bad day, which pissed me off so much that it ended my life by the dice. Here it is:
    I woke up and rolled the dice. Evens: shower and get dressed. Odds: stay in pyjamas.
    I rolled odd. Fair enough. I wandered downstairs in my smelly pyjamas and sat with my friend (the one who had recommended
The Dice Man
).
    After a little while I realised I was quite hungry. Out comes the dice. A one or four: eat that steak I bought yesterday; a two or five: eat the pack of mushrooms I’d bought for no reason (I do not like mushrooms); a three or six: Don’t eat. Roll the dice again for food in two hours.
    I rolled a six. Fucking dice.
    After an hour I was really very hungry. I decided to check with the dice whether it really wanted me to wait another hour before asking again: Yes.
    Cunt.
    So there I am, sat starving and stinking and the door goes. And of course, because I smell and look like shit it is someone that I quite fancy, bringing round comics for me to read.
    ‘What are you doing in pyjamas?’ they asked.
    Now, when you fancy someone like I did this person it’s probably not a good idea to tell them that you have just read some crazy book and have decided to live your life