I won’t  say anything to Dad. I won’t be that person. He knows something is up; I actually sleep in my room, instead of just using it to flounce into and slam the door.

So gross. I smell like shit. Like, actual poop. It has been two weeks. I think I am doing a good job of sucking it up. (Ew, no – bad imagery) There are far worse things going on in the world than me having to clean toilets. Zombies are starving in Africa, don’t you know? It can’t be all gun-toting, knife-wielding and skewer-jabbing fun and games.

Yeah, I know it isn’t fair, and that Rachael is abusing her position. I just haven’t got enough fight to give a shit care at the moment. Maybe I deserve to be punished.

Ugh, listen to me. Pathetic.