Isn't family a b*tch?!

I've always been known as the weird one in my family. The one with the violent mood swings, the quick temper, the tendency to beat (and bite!) the crap out of anyone who pissed me off. Add to that my lack of Catholic morals and you've pretty much got a bad 'un right there.

However, for someone labelled the black sheep, I'm a fucking paragon of responsibility. I've fought tooth and nail to get to where I am without their help and come up smelling of roses. And despite me wanting to hate them as much as I should, I find myself caring more than I ought to. But no more. The past week has been about making changes, so here are a few steady and true facts to set me on my merry way post-Bank Holiday Monday:

1. I am a bitch. I always have been and always will be. These intermittent slip-ups where I actually give a fuck about certain people are just blips on my bitch record.

2. I am only going to care about people who care about me. And no, not people who say that they do, but those who show it on a regular basis. Words are like arseholes - everyone's got them and, more often than not, they're full of shit!

3. I refuse to make decisions for people any more. Sure, I might point them in the direction of the rising tide, but whether they sink or swim is up to them.

4. Fear and respect can (and should) sometimes mean one and the same thing.

5. Revenge can be extremely satisfying. So can active, heartless and resolute sabotage!

6. Did I mention that I was a bitch?

Now all I have to do is repeat these statements of wisdom when I find myself slipping up and I should be just fine.

P.S. - To those that say that girls mature faster than boys, that's just an excuse made up by paedophiles and idiotic bastards in the middle of a mid-life crisis. At 16, if you're old enough to fuck (which, in the UK, you are), then you're old enough to stop other people fucking you over.