I'm Hungry.

I'm hungry. Not hungry for knowledge or passion or any other symbolic term. I'm just literally hungry for food. I've now become a refugee and a prisoner. When I'm not home, I choose to stay out as late as I can to avoid the craziness that is my father. Today, I decided to come home after class only because I was so damn tired. I have stayed in my room for 4 hours now. I supplied myself with bottles of water and nothing else. That was a mistake because I haven't eaten since lunch.

I keep telling myself, I'm such weak sauce. Wah wah, cry all you want, Stella. No ones coming into your prison cell with food anytime soon. And for God's sake, it's only one night. Ahh but see. It's not the fact that I can't eat, it's why. The king in all his mightiness prevents me from going downstairs and getting something to eat. Of course, that's all I think about - going downstairs and getting something to eat!

My mom wrote me a long letter and slipped it under my door this morning. I think it's a little comical. She advised me that the smart thing to do in this situation is apologize (for speaking my mind) and do it soon. She warned me that the only way Danny could come this weekend, as planned for the 3-day holiday, was to apologize. I refused. I said no parent should tell his daughter that she's a loser, she'll never amount to anything, she'll always be unsuccessful, and that he hates her and always will...and not apologize. The only way I'll apologize is if the bastard apologizes as well. Because isn't that what every war is about - recognition of wrong doing?

The longer this plays out, the easier it will be for me to keep with it, I suspect. Three weeks before I move out! There is the hunger problem though... I'll be smarter next time and stock the room with food.