With a tightened throat I watch videos and listened to songs that I used to when I was depressed, and in a way it makes me feel better. However, it also makes me remember how shitty I felt then and how shitty I feel now. I don't think I'm depressed again or anything, maybe a little, not often though. That's common though, I think. It just feels like my head is so fucked up lately and there's this knot in my neck that never goes away. Maybe it's hormones, I don't know, I just want to feel good again. I want to not be plagued with guilt, anger, distrust, and strees. I'm so overwhelmed. I just want to go back to a time when I wasn't constantly on the verge of tears. Sometimes, even when I'm laughing, I can feel the tears well up and sting me eyes. I swallow hard and just think, 'Why are you about to cry? Please, please, please just get through it one more time and I swear you can let it out later, just don't let them see you cry over nothing.' I feel really fucked, and maybe it's just right now, maybe I'll feel better in a week or two. It seems to go in circles like that, maybe I'm bipolar..I don't know, I don't think so, I don't think that runs in the family. Just depression, heart problems, and anxiety here. I don't even like to sleep anymore. It's one of my favorite things to do, relax at night, think about the day or make up stories and just...let go. Now when I sleep it feels like waiting, I feel so weary and restless. I really hope I get to go to therapy and that it makes some sort of change. To be able to release everything verbally to someone who doesn't know me, and never will outside of one room, seems kind of..nice. I'm trying to not think about it to much, I don't want to ride on the thought and be let down. My mother owes me a hundred dollars and was suppose to pay me back two weeks ago. -sigh Quote of the day: ~“Reading furnishes the mind only with materials of knowledge; it is thinking that makes what we read ours.” -John Locke

July 28, 2009 Dar and I made tea today before dinner. His dad is diabetic and was recently put on dialysis (his kidney's are failing.) He can't have caffeine anymore, except one cup, which is a real challenge considering all he drank before was tea. Anyway, since he can only have one cup he told us to make it how we like, instead of 1/2 cup of sugar we used 3/4. I don't think Dar really cares for sweet tea, which is hard for me to not scowl at since my mother makes SWEET tea. I grew up drinking very sweet tea around not only her, but my grandma Shi, my father's mother. I always assumed that's where my mother learned to make tea since my great grandma Dor on my mother's side makes hers rather bitter. So, we made tea, not too sweet and plenty strong. I drank a little while it was so warm and I was immediatly thrown ten years backward, to my great grandmother's kitchen. She had a small house, with a small kitchen, and a large kitchen table. On this table sat a small, green, glass sugar dish which closed shut by one of those odd contraption you have to loop around its chalice (LOOK UP) and then press down. After getting tea I always snuck to this jar, crossing my fingers, hoping she wouldn't spot me from her chair in the living space as I took the small copper spoon and dished myself more sugar than I like to admit. I have a small copper spoon like the one in that green dish at my mother's house, if it's not been taken. I really do adore that spoon, and that dish. The next time I go to my grandmother's house I believe I will ask if I can someday have that dish, with all it's memory in tow. (LOOK UP TOW) I really do love my great grandmother very much, she's always been incredibly sweet to me and my sister. Somedays I'd care for nothing more than to go back to those sick days in her special chair, eating tomatoe soup and burned grilled cheese while watching PBS. My grandmother always burned what she made in the skillet, it's one thing that defines her in my memory's catalog. My mother has told me of a time when my grandmother was not so sweet. You see, my mother's mother died when she was five, and shortly after her and her brother's father lost custody of them my great grandmother took them. After my great grandfather died it came out that my grandmother's children were indeed not his. In short, my great grandmother was uncovered to be a huss in her day. However, after falling in line with my great grandfather's sisters she became a holy roller, which she still is today. So, my great grandmother saw her grandchildren (my mother and uncle) as mistakes, and not blessings. Sometimes, when my mother speaks of such things, I feel she wants me to be spiteful and angry at the family who has wronged her, but I simply cannot. I didn't know my grandmother then, and I don't think anyone should be held for their past longer than need be. There is most certainly no more need for it to be held against her, I love her, even for her past. Apparently my father has a job now. It will be the first in years, the first legitiment job at least. He's twenty-thousand dollars in debt to child support, and now that he's working again my mother is being paid a nice ninety-two dollars ever so often. However, I'm certain that money will go to drugs, and cigarettes, and whatever else she and her boyfriend 'need.' It's not like I'm living at home anyway, and even I was, well, it wouldn't change much. My grandma Shi sent me one hundred dollars for school clothing, since my mother hasn't actually bought me clothes in a couple of years. My mother asked to borrow fifty the first night before I cashed the money order, but when I did she took eighty. It bothers me how unfit my mother is for being a parent. Her boyfriend doen't work, he has no license, but he sure can drive 'my' car. He can also put ridiculous looking stickers on it. I stayed a few nights at my mother's a week or so ago. The first night they went out of town and said they'd pick something up, 1 am she calls and says to fix something for myself. Cool, I only waited until 1 fucking am to eat, only to have her tell me that. The next night, she goes to get bath tissue and doesn't come back for five hours. When she does come home, she has no bath tissue and no money. She had told me before we'd figure something out for dinner, and when she gets home she laughs at me for waiting up for her to have dinner, it's 12 am. Part of me, really suspects she's tweaking, but a bigger part of me wants to put my fingers in my ears and scream 'na-na-na-i-can't-hear-you-reality!' Even if she was tweaking, what can I do? I really don't want to go 'home'..