Uh Oh.

Andy, you're in trouble. I'm upset with you. Furious. Livid.
You're an inconsiderate, uncaring, disgusting liar and a coward.

Or at least that's what I think of you right now.
25 minutes ago, I wasn't half this upset.

You're grounded.
Fuck your 'friends.'

If I can't go, neither can you.
I don't trust you.

The same way you don't trust me,
I no longer trust you.

Hear that asshole! TRUST!
I don't FUCKING TRUST YOU.

You've been giving me nothing but blank expressions and a stomach ache almost all week. I'm tired of it and I'm sick of you. If you don't need my permission, then I sure as FUCKING hell don't need yours.

I don't get it. You always fuck up riiiiight before your birthday. I just bought your gift. I just got the tickets for the show arranged. Why should I celebrate your life when all you do is cause me pain and sickness? Why do you deserve the good things when you're so bad? And why the FUCK is your dad going to kick me out when you were the one who couldn't pick up the FUCKING phone.

I hate you right now. Maybe you should kick me out. I'm tired of being your mom, taking care of you, keeping you safe. It's my turn asshole. Start loving me and treating me the way you should, or things are going to be over before you say cinco de mayo.

Keep digging yourself deeper and deeper. Next time you'll sleep outside, instead of the couch.

AHH!