Hmpht. I hate fighting. Most of all I hate fighting with Kevin. It happend again last night. This time because I told Corey’s mother that her son does coke (and, if, as she claims, she doesn’t give him enough money to do so, he probably sells weed in order to have money to do coke), sue me. He fucking leaped on top of me, and tried to punch me in the face as hard as he fucking could. And then, when *I* went back to try and apologize for kick/pushing him in the back with my foot and telling him to shut the fuck up, he slapped me across the face. And then proceeded to punch more holes in our walls, and in our door. And hasn’t said a damn thing to me since then. But I’m supposed to be just all happy happy joy joy about it, as if nothing fucking happend. Fuck off.
I love Kevin to death, I really really do. But I can’t put up with this shit forever. There comes a point where I just can’t, and won’t up with it anymore. If shit doesn’t change, and change big, in the next week I’m moving out. I just can’t deal with it anymore.