Things are continuing to make their way inexorably downhill. I am now at the mother's house due to a spat with the father that transpired an hour ago. It consisted of him standing outside my door and yelling at me about how I am "spineless," "worthless," and a "quitter." This is not my idea of constructive criticism; if I recall the event correctly (indeed, nothing but has crossed my mind since then), it seemed more like taunting than anything else.
Also, I am far from carefree. I recount my numerous mistakes daily. I am aware that I am a burden to those I love, and I am doing my best to get myself out of this rut so that one day we might be co-dependent as equals, as it should be. I do not enjoy this, and I am not carefree.
A quitter? Yes, perhaps I am that. But it does say something else of my character that I have endured living with him for the past three months straight.