Eternally Jaded
Superstar
My parents had absolutely no qualms about making me feel like utter shyt if I didn’t do what I was supposed to do. And it was an equal opportunity kill zone. Boy, girl, pet, plant, Moses. Anybody could get that work.
“Da fukk u majoring in that for? U don’t even draw good enough for that shyt. Don’t think u gon come back over here and live off us when you got dem damn student loans trying to be a free spirit. Yo room is ya mom’s nursery now.”
“How slow u gotta be to get pregnant when u can pop a pill, take a shot, use a rubber, get his wack dikk outta u?!”
“Whatchu mean she a dumb hoe?! U fukking her and made a baby with her so u a dumb hoe too!!! Only u a dumb hoe with less rights over YO seed!”
“Da fukk u crying for! More u cry the less u piss!”
“Can ya sorry ass put Call of Duty on yo resume?”
I come from an etherous bloodline. Now imagine that multiplied by everybody on both sides of the family. Because if u fukk up it’s a free for all in my family. By the time we were in middle school, nobody had to physically hit us. Just the sheer irritation from getting ethered and roasted again and again and again by multiple people every time u saw them was enough to say fukk it to doing most stupid shyt.
The bolded made me choke with laughter.
Prime hilarity.