2004-05-02 - 12:21 p.m.
Gah, I am a useless little shit.
Ma Soeur really needs me, yet I refuse to see her today. What the hell is wrong with me.
Then again, this isn't even about me.
I am very upset with myself. I had gone about four months without taking any tylenol whatsoever.
Mother's Day is coming up. I feel terrible for Karsen and Klint. Ma Soeur pointed out yesterday that it will be harder for them than it has been for her because they saw their mom every day. So not only will they be thinking stuff like "I wish my mom was here to see me get married" or whatever, they'll think stuff like "I wish my mom was here to make breakfast and take me to school in the morning."
God, I can't stop thinking about Ma Soeur. How do you live after your mom gets murdered on Christmas? I still can't believe that I didn't know until I got back to school after break. Drum Major saw it on the news and just went over to Ma Soeur's house. DM took it pretty hard. I remember what I did after I found out. My sister was here. I told her to get out of the house, and I just compulsively washed windows and cried.
Thinking of that makes me think of Gay Manwhore and Good Twin. I found out their mom died on a Monday during second period. Last semester. Band Captain (Manwhore's girlfriend) told me during adv math. I had a stupid PE coach for a sub, and I had to leave the room for drama pics anyway, so I got up and left. All I could think about was finding Drum Major and Ma Soeur. Of course when I did, I had a huge meltdown in front of the whole drama club. And of course they seemed to think that it was necessary to get up in my face when all I wanted to do was talk to DM. Everyone ended up having a breakdown that day. And then the next day we had band practice, and Gay Manwhore was there, and he just wanted to know if I was okay. So I had to cry even more because it reminded me of everything nice he had ever done for me and how he had comforted me when I was going through a hard time. And even though I knew how much he hated some of the stuff that his mom had done and how many issues he had with her he was still trying to make me feel better.
And now I remember this perfectly nice woman that helped out at football games. She killed herself. And somehow it's my fault. Just like it was my fault all those other times.
You know, I wasn't planning on posting an entry like this.
Why can't I stop thinking of every terrible thing that has ever happened to anyone? Why do I keep finding ways of proving that it was my fault?
I need a shower and a newspaper...
