Dear Mom,

We love you.

I'm sorry you were in so much pain.
And I'm sorry your body failed you.
I know you fought has hard as you possibly could, and that means the world.
I also know you wouldn't want our lives to fall apart, and I promise you, they won't.

You're free, and you're at peace now.
And we love you so, so much.

Barbara Ellen Knarr
February 16, 1950 - May 29, 2008

And...

It's gone.

Warm.

I had a really, really good day today.

Things with Connor were perfect, I managed to help out with Sara.
I did enough at my house, got enough sleep, and above all, I felt loved
and secure. Really safe and cozy, that warm glow you get when you're
surrounded by people who love you.

I'm not sure if this is an isolated incident, but I hope not.
I really hope its part of a greater trend, because it felt wonderful.

Lonely.

It's just that I've run out of ideas. I've always been able to muster up some courage or some wisdom, some insight to help me get through things.

But it's all run dry. And I just feel exhausted, so tired of carrying this life, of trying to make it work.

And this paralyzing loneliness has been chasing me all day.

I want to feel happy without this insane clutching.
I want to appreciate Connor, and my friends, without being terrified of losing them.
And above all, I'm tired of feeling crazy. I want some form of security.

God's going to need to intervene here, because I'm no longer equipped.

Rant.

I don't have the enthusiasm or the clear-headedness to write this entry with any stab at eloquency. So be forewarned.

I'm so tired.

Especially of this constant one step forward, two steps back. My mom is back in the hospital (on Mother's Day, no less). It's just for an infection, the doctors assured us she'll be out by Wednesday or Thursday.

But pardon my candor, but WHAT THE FUCK?

I can't believe she's back in there, again. She goes in and out several times a week for chemotherapy and blood work. We still have an oxygen machine in my house. She still has an angry graft vs. host rash all around her skin. And let's not forget, that the morning after her birthday she had to be rushed back in to the hospital!

I'm so tired of this. It's getting so fuckinkg ridiculous. Why is she not getting better? Why are we STILL dealing with this?

And of course, I still get to deal with Shelby being an angry cunt. I have all these festering resentments with people.

Julie is dating an addict, while she's fresh out of rehab. Smart, Julie. And I tried so hard to be supportive of her, but it's not a good idea. They specifically warn against that kind of shit! And I'm still so proud of the moves she's taken, but it all means nothing if she just throws it away again. Her boyfriend relapsed, was kicked out of his house, and Julie asked Dad if he could stay. As calmly as possible, he told her that was a terrible idea, then came in and told me he was convinced she was "high as a fucking kite."

And now I'm sitting here, working half-heartedly on some Creative Writing homework (after wrapping up a five page English paper). And needless to say, I'm fed up. I have my phone next to me, because I keep wanting to text Connor. But I know that's a terrible idea. I know I'm too needy and way too dependent, but somehow I really need to hear him talk.

I'm a fucking mess, and I'm so sick of it.