I'm so tired of feeling awful.

And so lonely.

I'm so very

frustrated right now.

And I realize when dealing with something as enormous as death, frustration seems like a pretty pitiful emotion. But it's true. I am so ungodly frustrated.

I'm being punished for something I don't really understand. I'm not a petulant child or anything, I can accept punishment. I just honest to god don't understand what I did wrong. It was supposedly a "second time offense," but when I asked, Dad couldn't come up with a first time. His best option was "I shouldn't have to keep track." If I'm being punished Dad, you kind of do. I spent the night at Connor's house, which he said was fine, as long as I let people know. I let Julie know. I kept the car, and yes, that was a mistake, but there are two other cars at home, and Alison got to work fine.


But apparently that wasn't enough, and I'm out of a cell phone for two weeks.

Which is even more irritating, because Connor is leaving for Gulf Shores tomorrow morning. And I hate myself for becoming so reliant on him, but I didn't really have a choice. If I didn't lean on loved ones, I'd probably be a hell of a lot worse off right now. But anyway, this vacation is coming precisely when I need him the most, but of course it'd be way too selfish to stop him. So given that he's going, his regular good night phone calls just became a lot more important. For better or for worse, I need him. And because of this Dad shit, it's a hell of a lot harder to get a hold of me.

And I have a really hard time taking this from Dad. Because Mom would have never done that. She wasn't much a punisher, but she also treated us with respect. And it's hard after she basically raised me for seventeen years, having my Dad swoop in and suddenly tell me what I can and can't do.

And I'm so tired of not knowing what I'm allowed to do or say, and walking on eggshells.
It's just all so goddamn frustrating.

I have no

motivation.
feelings.
energy.
vigor.
power.
life.

I'm too exhausted to break down.
I'm too exhausted to be alive anymore.

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.