Thank God for anti-depressants
12:12 p.m. - 2006-01-13
Alan's gone. He's six hours away, and won't be home for two weeks.
My brother's in jail.
My car's in the shop.
Ali's sick from the vaccinations that I caved and gave her yesterday.
My morning began with a phone call from my mother that left me kneeling on the floor, sobbing uncontrollably. I'm to blame for all the problems in their lives, evidently, even though I didn't have a fucking thing to do with ANYTHING. I hope like hell that they're content with their son, because they're just before losing their daughter forever.
I never want to see my father again.
I'd like to say more. I'd like to spill my guts here, spew forth the venom that's flooding my brain, but I'm not going to. I'm grateful for a few amazing friends, who have been here through it all, doing their best to keep me from slipping right over the edge.
And I guess it's good that I have a perfect model of what a parent is not.