Family

I don't like having dinner with my family. Scratch that. I absolutely loathe having dinner with my family. I dread it. And I have to do it every night. Every single freaking night. I shouldn't hate it this much, but there isn't anything that I like about it. I very rarely really like the food, so it's just refuelling to me, I have to help set the table and clean up afterwards, and I have to make conversation, or listen to other people make conversation. I have tried to block them out but I always sit next to my mum, and she is far to loud to block out, even with the aid of earphones, which I'm not allowed to wear at the table anyway. So basically, the whole thing is torture. I have to sit there for half an hour listening to my mum complain about work, and my sister complain about school, and then my mum give my sister the third degree about doing stuff other than studying at school, and then my sister lie to get around whatever my mum is trying to accuse her of. At that point I'm about ready to slit my wrists with my knife. They're just so annoying! And they aren't even doing anything annoying! They're just sitting there, making pointless conversation for the sake of talking. I don't like it when people do that. In my opinion the person who first came up with the idea of small talk to fill a silence deserves to be tortured and murdered brutally and then rot in hell. I don't see the point in small talk. No-one cares about what we're talking about, they just want to talk because they can't appreciate silence. I like silence. Sometimes I wonder why I talk to people at all, but then I go hang out with my two best friends. Also, people tend to talk to me more than the other way around. I just try to dodge their questions and use as short answers as possible so that they'll stop talking. And I know, I know, that's really unsociable, but I am an unsociable person and that's the way I like it. The less people who bug me with small talk, the better in my opinion. Unfortunately I have to put up with at the very half an hour of small talk a day during the torture called dinner with my family. My mum tries to talk to me at breakfast too. I wouldn't mind, except it's six twenty five in the morning when I have breakfast, and I am not awake enough to walk down the stairs with my eyes open, let alone put up with making small talk! Sometimes I think she's trying to kill me.