Pigs in Clothes

First of all, I'd like to ask: would you dress up a pig? A filthy selfish animal who stuffs its fat face, rolls about in gluttony, full from its dinner when all it does is sit around. What would be the point? It doesn't go anywhere, it has no friends to meet or greet, it has no sense of health, or of a different life than the sty, the hovel it lives in, no one to please, no goals to achieve. So, would you?

My parents have had three deliveries today, all clothes packages. Not too dear from the marks on the packages but the price adds up. Last week there were about three also. And the week before. Sometimes they're packages of shoes, boots, phone cases, whatever. Me? I haven't bought an item of clothing since February. A £2, reduced from £4, navy blue skirt from Age Concern, a charity shop. I wear it four times a week. My other clothes are threadbare, worn between the legs, the stitching and re-stitching both come undone, my vest tops have holes in from the four years I've been wearing them. It's easy to keep a track of the clothes you buy when you don't buy many. I'm still wearing the clothes I bought with my Christmas and birthday money three, four, five years ago. Of course I feel sorry for myself. I'm running out of everything and no matter how much time I spend in my underwear, my clothes are wearing out because I can't just sit around all day in the house. Of course I'm just moaning about my lack of clothes and shoes it would seem. Perhaps I'm just craving attention from my parents. I am. It's hard moving away from the mother you love, and have lived with for seventeen years, eleven of them without a father, to finally move in with your father, thinking perhaps he was to shy to make the first step, then realising that even after two years of living together, you haven't actually had a conversation, he still doesn't know the food you like, he doesn't know what studies you are taking, doesn't know your life's ambitions. He doesn't ask. Does he care? Is he too shy? Perhaps his wife will get jealous if he gets too close to you? Perhaps he doesn't know he has to. Maybe I expected too much, though he'd meet me halfway, I'm going off topic. Yes I am just another teenager moaning about her family life. I'm just sick of living here like a lodger and not being part of the 'family'. Not that I'd want to be. Then what are you moaning about? I don't know. Pigs in clothes. People having the things they don't deserve. Yeah ok, they work for a living, but if you have a fucking child, then you have to take fucking care of it. You have to take fucking care of them all and not just one. I'm so bitter and so jealous. I'm jealous of my parents' money, but not of the lives they lead. I'm jealous of the attention my nine year old stepbrother gets, the money he gets given to buy on sweets, the clothes he gets bought, his expensive Christmas and birthday presents, when I get fuck all. This may be the loneliest I've ever been. Living in a house with no love. Having self-centred, talkative, attention seeking, ignorant friends. Losing the one thing you love and live for, the place you could go once a week to feel you belonged somewhere. Having no one to tell this to, the only thing you could come up with being this. I don't know what to do anymore. I hate being bitter. I hate seeing people killing themselves slowly with food. I hate seeing pigs in clothes.