To Sarah – I agree with every word you just typed/said/conveyed:
#1: I actually woke up this morning to and picked up my phone. Then, for a split second I thought I really want to call Mama because I don’t feel good. Then I realized, “Oh, the reason I don’t feel good is because I can’t call Mama.” Suckage-Fuckage. UUUUgh.
#2: Yes, I really think I will be coming home, if not the same time as you all, but at least a few days after. I feel like I need to come home get a shitty job at the mall (Karee laughed at me when I said this started imitating me, “All I want from life is a Job at the MALLLL”, it was kind of funny :) ), see a therapist, and be around my family and friends. – Oh, and get to partake in Maggie Therapy whenever I wish. :)
I think it would also be a good idea to come home for the very purpose of living. I have no purpose here. None. Zero. Zip. Zitch. I actually laid in bed last night and wondered if I could will my heart to stop beating so I could die. I tried. And then I think it actually started to work because my chest started to hurt and I wasn’t breathing anymore. But I’m too big of a wimp to actually go through with willing myself to die, so I finally just went to sleep, which seemed like a somewhat healthier alternative.
Anyway, I’m also annoyed because AG is offering me all of these things that I can do “If I want to.” Now, I know she’s just trying to give me options and stuff, but I don’t even want her to ask. If I feel like doing something I’ll do it goddamn it. Otherwise, leave me the fuck alone in my little room with a door that I open so I can get fresh air and watch my American Justice tv show (Which I think Horatio Caine should host when he retires from CSI: Miami… It seems in his caliber of drama). AAAAAsdlkjabkasjdraklnvbaiords;lvbajnflaeur… That was called temper-tantrum via blog. I also want to come home because I can’t stand living in a house with Uncle Charlie anymore. He hasn’t done or said anything directly to me, he just stresses me out because I feel like he might kill over of a heart attack at any moment, and I really don’t feel like walking into the sunroom and finding him convulsing on the floor or like, the disturbing gray color. I mean, it’s not like I haven’t seen it before, but I’d really prefer not to deal with someone dying if I don’t have too.
…And yes there is a special place in Hell for me. -But wait, I forgot, I don’t believe in hell anymore. That’s right I said it. Why would there be a hell if things can be like this on earth? I mean, I always thought that Hell would be me being seperated from the people I loved the most. Well, looks like I’m there currently: Mama – gone, family and friends – 2,000 miles away. I mean really, I’m pretty sure this is fitting my definition.
Well, back to American Justice…