Not a happy birthday

Long rant ahead. Involves family problems that you might not want to read about. Full of angst and sadness and everything else that comes with a rant on families.

Since my birthday falls on a Sunday I had to celebrate it on the Saturday before it, which was the 22nd of August. A family friend brought my twin sister to watch Inside Out, took us to dinner at a buffet, and brought us to the hospital where my brother's girlfriend gave birth to our first nephew. We even got the gifts we wanted, which our dad (who doesn't live with us, by the way, and it's been that way for eight months) gave to us through said family friend.

The day would have ended on a happy note, but someone had to ruin it. Who ruined it? It wasn't an enemy or some random stranger, or even some sort of calamity.

It was my mom.

She saw a note left by my dad on one of our gifts and she grabbed it and cussed. She tore it into pieces IN FRONT OF MY FACE and did the same with the note he left for my twin. She even had the audacity to post it on Facebook and Instagram and tag us in it.

After that she complained that she was being ambushed and that she thought "we were a team". She told us that when our dad left, he did not only leave her but he left us too. She said that if we didn't stay with her, she would have been so happy and she could totally live easy, like she claims my dad is. She said that she chose to live in difficulty because she loves us. She even said that if we want to accept our gifts from him, that's fine, but if we want to see him, talk to him, thank him, or whatever it is we can't do with him anymore, we should just leave her and go to him.

What. The. Hell?!?!?

After that she goes on crying that her "perfect" day was ruined because of a gift from my dad. What she doesn't realize is that she ruined our first seemingly perfect day with all this bitterness and petty anger. I am so tempted to leave my mother but not without hurting her physically in so many different ways. I want to strangle her, punch her, kick her around, slap her, and leave her half dead on the bedroom floor before leaving the house. But this does not mean I want to leave to go to my dad. I love my dad, but he won't understand. I just want to leave this house and stay as far away from my mom as possible. She's making me want to leave her. Maybe if I did, my life would be so much easier. I would be able to get a job, earn money, and be with people who are willing to listen, and  I wouldn't have to put up with her crap anymore.

Best birthday ever, am I right? Perks of being twenty-one, I guess.

Emotionally exhausting birthday to me...