"You're Not Healing; Just Concealing..."
*curls up in a ball* I am feeling sad, and I don't know why. I think, though, because everybody else is stressed out or worried or busy or--I don't know. And I don't think Zara's happy, either, and I wish I could change it but I'm so useless to-day that I'm not much good for it, either. *wiggles toes disconsolately*
Saw Gail to-day. Am convinced she is lying to me again. Am v. tired of feeling that way.
I go to school to-morrow. I haven't gone to school in almost seven years. I'm so scared. And there's a dress code, and I'm so worried about wearing something wrong, because I don't remember it all that well--and I know I'm failing Algebra II, which I ought to have learnt, it turns out, two years ago, so I'll be so behind in school. And we're planning my classes and things, and I'm just so nervous, and I don't know what, je ne sais--silly. Pointless, even.
I want somebody to hug me and stroke my hair and tell me not to be scared or upset, and let me sleep somewhere warm and quiet. I've been so cold. And--I don't know.
I've been very bad to-day. I'm so expensive, and so much trouble, and I just don't know what to do. I wish I were cleverer and a better daughter and a better organiser, not with so many silly medical issues and so many problems. Waen never seems to cause trouble the way I do. It isn't enough to do my schoolwork if I'm not any good at it. And I've made things, because of my party, so that Waen and Mum and Da' can't ride all weekend, and it's their last weekend to get a chance to do it; and they can't go to Father Harmon's goodbye dinner, because he finally got a position in a New Jersey parrish. I don't know. I've just made everything go wrong. I don't know how I manage to do all that. Also, there's a horrible conflict over insurance because of all my doctor's visits, that's going to be so expensive. I made Mum promise not to pay me for cleaning the house.
And I am so cold.
I need somewhere to hide.
Saw Gail to-day. Am convinced she is lying to me again. Am v. tired of feeling that way.
I go to school to-morrow. I haven't gone to school in almost seven years. I'm so scared. And there's a dress code, and I'm so worried about wearing something wrong, because I don't remember it all that well--and I know I'm failing Algebra II, which I ought to have learnt, it turns out, two years ago, so I'll be so behind in school. And we're planning my classes and things, and I'm just so nervous, and I don't know what, je ne sais--silly. Pointless, even.
I want somebody to hug me and stroke my hair and tell me not to be scared or upset, and let me sleep somewhere warm and quiet. I've been so cold. And--I don't know.
I've been very bad to-day. I'm so expensive, and so much trouble, and I just don't know what to do. I wish I were cleverer and a better daughter and a better organiser, not with so many silly medical issues and so many problems. Waen never seems to cause trouble the way I do. It isn't enough to do my schoolwork if I'm not any good at it. And I've made things, because of my party, so that Waen and Mum and Da' can't ride all weekend, and it's their last weekend to get a chance to do it; and they can't go to Father Harmon's goodbye dinner, because he finally got a position in a New Jersey parrish. I don't know. I've just made everything go wrong. I don't know how I manage to do all that. Also, there's a horrible conflict over insurance because of all my doctor's visits, that's going to be so expensive. I made Mum promise not to pay me for cleaning the house.
And I am so cold.
I need somewhere to hide.