I don't know what to do anymore. No matter what happens, it's never enough. Mom took my sister and I to the mall a couple hours ago, and she has done nothing but complain and scream since. We cleaned the house today so mom could have a friend over to watch the Super Bowl tomorrow, the reward being the trip to the mall. The first place my sister dragged us was Justice, a store she loves but mom and I can't stand. Not only is it expensive, but the clothes look like the designer drew them with highlighters while on acid. We made the mistake of giving our opinions, so she stormed out after a few minutes without buying anything. Then we went to the Apple store, where she yet again begged mom for an iPhone. As usual, mom said it was too expensive and her contract wasn't up yet, so it wouldn't be happening any time soon.

Of course, this didn't sit too well with my sister, it never does, so she reminded mom yet again her phone takes hours to charge and doesn't keep it very long. Mom did what any logical parent would; she took us to the Verizon store to see if they could fix the problem. Even there, my sister was going on about how much she needs an iPhone and how long she's been wanting one. Of course, she didn't give any reasons why, so her argument was pretty much falling flat. The clerk gave us some tips on how to solve the problem, but unfortunately also gave my sister the idea mom would buy her a new phone if the one she has now breaks. As soon as we left, she started dropping it and kicking it around before picking it up, going so far as pushing it off her seat so it fell in the parking lot when we got the tires checked.

The sulking continued at the grocery store. She usually whines when we go without her, saying we didn't get what she wanted, or the right flavor of something. This trip had her criticizing every move we made, going on about how clueless mom and I are. She also kept messing with her phone, even after mom said breaking it would only mean she wouldn't have a phone anymore. Now that we're home, she's started throwing it around her room, stomping around the house and screeching about how mom and I hate her. My guess is she's too dim to realize it isn't her, but her ungrateful attitude and self-important stature we hate. But then, she's a narcissist, just like our father. She's still stomping around and slamming doors, only now it's about wanting Sonic, instead of just eating some of the tons of food we have at the house.

But my sister's bitchiness isn't the only thing on my mind right now. I don't know if it was a nightmare exactly, but it was kind of crazy. He and I had just been married, and everyone was in our backyard for the reception. Everything was going well until I overheard my grandmother talking to someone, going on about how he had just made the biggest mistake of his life, how I'd only end up putting him in his grave. I'd always put up with her abuse before, but this time I guess was the straw that broke the camel's back. I can't remember what I asked her, or what she said in response, but I remember smacking her. My dad came to her defense, saying I'd just proved her point and that mom was too cheap to give me a real wedding. I hit him too, saying he had no right to talk and that they should go rot in the pit they crawled out of.

I turned to leave after that, thinking it was over. He grabbed my arm, going on about how I couldn't talk to him that way. In response, I did what any woman would, I got him as hard as I could where the sun don't shine. He ended up coming between us, but I didn't hear what happened after. I excused myself and hit the bathroom, wiping off every trace of the makeup mom had made me wear. Then I went to my room, where I broke down in tears. Now for some reason, most of the dreams I remember have at least two endings, and none of these are too uplifting. The first had several people come looking for me, but they never found me, because I was sitting in my closet (for who knows what reason). I was lying on my bed in the second, clutching a tear-stained pillow. In that one, there's a bottle on the floor, either closed or open with pills spilling out. When it's closed, he assumes I cried myself to sleep, then goes out and tells my dad's family its best to leave. But when it's open, he screams, which gets everyone's attention.

Maybe it's because I've been thinking so much about it lately, or maybe it's some kind of omen. I don't really believe in that stuff, but dreams I've had have ended up coming true in the past. I just hope it doesn't mean what I think it does.