Today is Sunday, most of my foster family is in Connecticut for their daughters graduation from Southern. My dad-like figure came home with my co-fostered brother so he could visit his mom and pop could get back to work. I was on the fence on whether or not to take the trip with them. I was really leaning toward no. Not because I don't like her, faith's a good kid. But I wouldn't want to waste 4 days in a state that bores me because I would limited inmy travels. I am unsure whether I should be admitting that I like to explore places I've never been alone. Other people tend to limit the places we can venture to, especially when they know the area; trying to impose their own opinion of the best and worst places. So I stayed home. If it were accidental or subconscious, I don't know but I started coughing in the car ride home and then excessive vomitting. I highly doubt it to be lucky, but it did the trick. I have an increasing need to be alone all the time. Even more than that, control when I am around others. Which I hope is almost never. I mean, I have to go to class twice a week. Other than school, I thrive on the alone time. It allows me to write and work on the music. It really is the most important thing. And now that I bought this sh@#$y 2nd hand laptop, I can type up my songs and get as much music as possible. On the other hand I need work and I know that socializing is key when remaining sane. The last thing I need is becoming a paranoid schizophrenic like my mother... I don't get out as much as I should. I quit my job at Hollister and have a difficult time finding work. I don't visit hardly any of my real family and I rarely do that. They are all liars, and crazy people, though I act just like them when I'm not paying attention. I haven't lived in the city or be exposed to them long enough for it to be hard to change, but just long enough to make it not easy. My mother was never an easy person to live with. And the older I get,I learn more about her that makes me wonder how we can be related. So she is pregnant with baby number 7. 3rd but hopefully 2nd baby daddy. We haven't been on good terms since I called her a whore for sleeping around at 15. She doesn't know who my daddy is for sure. And kids 2-6 all have the same one. Now number 7 is either the same as mine or just the one she thought was mine. People tell me I have a right to be a little nuts, but I mean I haven't even scratched the surface. I have so much to explain and can't do it all in a day. I guess what I'm hoping is that someone on this site is like a psychologist and can read my symptoms or something (of course I highly doubt that would happen) and give a diagnosis other than ptsd. Until I write again... Matheny